


Unpack My Heart

by dontfretbaby, serohtonin



Series: Unpack My Heart [1]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Rimming, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 41,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontfretbaby/pseuds/dontfretbaby, https://archiveofourown.org/users/serohtonin/pseuds/serohtonin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a trip to Italy, fresh-out-of-high-school Chris meets a handsome American stranger, a college junior named Darren, who changes his life in ways he never thought possible. But can Chris trust these new feelings to last?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Contains brief slut shaming, minor references to bullying, homophobia, and assault. 
> 
> Credit goes to Richard Linklater and Kim Krizan, who created the 'Before' movie series for which this fic is loosely based on.
> 
> Thanks to our wonderful betas [Alyssa](http://roblaine.tumblr.com/), [Amy](http://kurtswish.tumblr.com/) and [Mags](http://magsforya.tumblr.com/) for dedicating the time to handle this massive fic!
> 
> Finally, thanks to wine distributors for providing the _motivation_ and encouragement for us along the way (mostly for [dontfretbaby](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dontfretbaby/pseuds/dontfretbaby)).

Chris loves his mom and dad, and his sister, Hannah. 

Okay, and maybe his friend Melissa, but that’s about all he loves regarding his life in Clovis. 

It’s one of the many reasons why after high school graduation, he uses all the money in his savings to get the hell out of there, at least for a little while. He decides to treat himself to a European vacation, despite his mother’s worries. 

Newly eighteen, he managed to convince her that he’d spent most of his young life taking care of himself anyway so spending two weeks away from home would be a cakewalk. On his own for the past week he’s proving just that, planning to spend the second and final week of his vacation in Rome.

Nothing too awful has happened so far, until a middle-aged couple across the aisle from him on the train begin to argue quite loudly in some foreign language, interrupting his attempt at reading _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ for the fourth time.

He drags himself and his bag over to another seat toward the back of the train car. To his left is a young man with dark, crazy curls and the brightest hazel eyes he’s ever seen. 

The man looks lost in his own world, headphones in his ears, lip-synching dramatically while playing air-drums against the closed book on his lap. 

This guy must be a fellow American. Chris hasn’t encountered anyone that enthusiastic about anything since he’s landed abroad.

Chris eyes him warily and scoots over to the window seat, the furthest away he can get, and focuses on the third chapter of his book.

Then without warning, the man takes out his earbuds and asks, “ _Ciao. Parli inglese?_ ”

Chris jumps. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Ahh, so you do,” the man says, more to himself than to Chris, displaying a smile so big that Chris swears his face might split in half.

It makes his heart skip embarrassingly in his chest.

The young man gestures toward the book with his chin. “Is it your first time reading that?”

“Oh, no,” Chris answers. “I’ve read it a few times. The whole series, actually. I felt like starting from the beginning again.”

“Cool. My buddies and I were talking about writing a play based on it. We even made up this dumb song about Draco being secretly in love with Hermione.”

Chris’ eyebrows knit together, half in confusion, and half in contemplation.

The stranger looks down timidly, a light blush creeping over his olive-toned cheeks. “Yeah, I know it’s totally ridiculous.”

“No, it’s actually kinda genius, taking creative license on a story so many people already know.”

“Yeah?” The young man asks hopefully as he leans across the aisle, narrowly missing the angry couple storming off toward the next car.

Chris finds the man staring at him with rapt attention when he answers, “Yeah. I kind of have this idea that I’ve been working on with classic fairy tale characters. Like, from the Brothers Grimm, but I put my own spin on it.”

“Wow, that’s fucking amazing. How old are you?”

Chris hesitates before replying, “Eighteen, but I’ve been playing around with the concept for years.”

The guy’s mouth drops open. “Seriously? Shit. Can I, um, sit with you?”

Chris wants to say no, because this guy could be some charming drifter who preys on vulnerable solo travelers, stealing their money, or worse.

But he seems so genuinely interested in what Chris has told him. 

He’s probably harmless.

“Yeah, sure. I guess.”

The man hops the aisle, parks himself beside Chris and holds his hand out. “I’m Darren.”

“Chris,” he responds in kind, shaking the guy’s warm, calloused hand.

The touch is brief, but feels inviting, a wonderful respite from how most people around his age have touched him throughout the last few years.

“It’s great to meet someone who reads Harry Potter and actually understands more than two words of English,” Darren laughs. “I mean, I’ve enjoyed this country, but it’s nice to have a taste of home, y’know?”

The man grins, soft and sweet, a glint of something in his eyes that Chris can’t quite discern.

Chris chuckles wryly. “Yeah, I guess. There’s a reason they call vacations _getaways_ though.”

Darren’s eyes flit over his face curiously. “So, Chris, what are you getting away from, then?”

Chris shrugs. “I’m just celebrating making it through high school. That’s all.”

“Ahh, I see. Not a bad accomplishment.”

Darren looks as if he wants to inquire further, but he doesn’t, which Chris is thankful for. 

So he takes the opportunity to ask, “What exactly brings _you_ here, Darren?”

Darren raises one of his very prominent eyebrows and grins. “Here on this train, or...?”

Chris resists the urge to roll his eyes. “To Italy, I mean.”

“Right. Of course. I’ve been studying here for almost a year. I’m a student at a university back home.”

“History, or art, or...?” Chris tries, and both those topics feel instantly wrong as he considers the man before him.

Darren scrunches his face. “Eh, a little of both, I guess. More specifically, theater, and the roots of commedia dell’arte. I’m really trying to immerse myself in the language and the culture, too.”

Chris’ eyes widen, listening to the foreign term roll off Darren’s tongue so perfectly. “Oh, that sounds interesting. So, acting is what you’re going to college for?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m majoring in theater performance, hence the _commedia dell’ arte_ , the main reason I got to come here. I’m also minoring in musicology, which is basically music history.”

Chris tries to hide his surprise at Darren’s admission. He could almost laugh out loud at what his parents would say if he told them he wanted to to go college for _acting_. Sure, they supported him during community theatre back home and he was definitely a much better Kurt von Trapp than Duane Chase could ever be.

However, acting still seemed far from a logical career choice back in Chris’ tiny hometown of Clovis, California.

“So, you, like, want to be an actor as an a career?”

Darren sighs as if he’s been asked that question a million times before. “Crazy, right? But, that’s why I’m here in Italy, because it’s more than just acting in cheesy rom-coms or singing generic pop shit. There’s an art to it that I’m learning here. That is, when I’m actually studying. Everything is just so amazing. I don’t wanna miss a minute.”

Chris examines the stubble on Darren’s chin and the fullness of his upturned mouth. Then, he blushes and looks away, hoping the other man doesn’t catch his stare. “I know the feeling.” 

“Well, what’s on your itinerary, man?”

“Oh, uh, I just spent a week in Florence and now I’m heading to Rome. I’m actually hoping to see The Pantheon before sunset.”

“That ancient temple, you mean?” Darren smiles, his light eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wow, a Harry Potter fan _and_ a history buff? I’ve hit the jackpot.”

Chris wants to entertain the possibility that the charming, talkative man might like him, but he’s been down this road before. It always ended with the standard, _“Oh, wait, he’s straight”_ rejection.

But maybe, just maybe, he might be different.

“So, are you headed back to school?”

Darren shrugs, “Kind of. I’m basically done with my classes now. They give us our last week to be tourists. A group from my Italian language class went to Florence today.”

Chris wonders why he isn’t sitting with people he knows, instead of him. The thought, however, becomes a distant memory when the train intercom sounds, warning that the next stop is near. Chris makes a silent prayer that the next stop isn’t Darren’s.

Alas, his worst fears are answered when he sees a group of kids around his age shuffling through the train car, and the pitiful look on Darren’s face confirms it.

When the train starts to slow down and the intercom sounds again, Chris looks down at his fingers, which he now realizes are shaking.

Would they hug? No. Probably shake hands, if that.

Then, Chris would tuck away the memory of the boy on the train who smiled at him and actually listened to him for once, and he’d pull it out whenever he felt lonely back home.

Darren doesn’t leave him though. Instead, he puts up the hoodie on his jacket as his fellow classmates walk by.

“Is–isn’t this your stop, Darren?”

“Shh!” he hissed, gripping Chris’ arm. The contact sends an exhilarating shiver through him.

That feeling continues through the third and final intercom announcement and Darren still doesn’t move. It’s only when the train starts to slowly pick up speed that Darren speaks.

“You almost blew my cover, man.”

Chris wants to respond, but Darren is still touching him, and it sends his hormones flying.

Finally, Chris mutters, “What are you doing?”

Darren wears a huge, beaming upturned face when he says, “Haven’t you looked outside? It’s a beautiful day to see the Pantheon.”

**

Chris isn’t due to check into his hotel room until later that night, and Darren informs him that carrying their luggage around the city is a big no-no. So, he suggests using the train luggage storing service until later that night.

It’s money that Chris doesn’t really want to spend, but Darren’s so frickin’ convincing, and well, _adorable_ , that he agrees instantly.

Honestly, Chris is just trying to hide his shock at Darren’s desire to join him on his sightseeing jaunt.

“Haven’t you seen all of Rome already? Won’t this be a little boring for you?”

Darren turns back around, holding his guitar case, his grin still as bright as ever. “Yeah, but I haven’t seen it with you. It’ll be more fun with a companion, right?”

“You’re not checking that in?” Chris asks.

“Oh no,” Darren swings it around his back. “You never know when a musical opportunity will come up. Gotta always be prepared.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Of course. Anyway, I’m kind of used to going it alone,” Chris replies. “Why would this trip be any different?”

“Ah, so you’ve mentioned,” Darren returns as they walk into the city. “That sucks.”

They discussed school a bit, but Chris avoided most of the gory details.

“Meh. It was what it was,” Chris shrugs.

“But how could they not have recognized your awesomeness? A genderbent _Sweeney Todd?_ That’s brilliant.”

Chris can’t help preening at that. “I had my own selfish reasons.”

“Even so, I would have loved to see it. I wanna see the actual stage version, too.” Darren then sings exaggeratedly, _“I’ll steal you, Joannaaa.”_

Chris shakes his head, wondering how well Darren can sing when he’s more serious about it. “At least there’s the movie version.”

“Not the same. How many times do I have to watch Helena Bonham Carter fall in love with Johnny Depp on screen?”

“Don’t you dare,” Chris mutters, pretending to sulk. “When I was in Florence, I saw where she filmed _A Room with a View_ and almost died. She’s perfect.

”

Darren shrugs, dropping the debate for an unknown reason as they begin to wander about the square, filled with tourists and locals, and then he breaks the brief lull in conversation between them.

“So, are you enjoying your stay in _Italia_ so far?

”

“It’s been pretty great, seeing things I’ve only ever dreamed of. Travel websites can only convey so much.”

“Mmm,” Darren hums. “They don’t mention all the awesome local hole-in-the-wall places, either. Like, I got to play at this little restaurant, and they even offered me a semi-regular gig.”

“You mean you actually play that thing on your back?” Chris smirks.

Darren licks his lips and swallows. “Maybe I’ll show you some time.”

Is he flirting?

He can’t be.

Chris smiles tentatively. “Sounds good. I mean, maybe _you_ won’t sound good, but, I’d like to see that anyway.”

Darren lays his palm over his heart mockingly. “You wound me, Christopher.”

“Oh, the full name treatment. I don’t think we’re quite on that level yet.”

Darren stops in his tracks at the entrance of the Pantheon. “Can we be?”

The expression Darren gives him is so damn hopeful that it’s kind of unnerving.

Chris clears his throat and shifts from foot to foot uneasily. “Let’s go inside.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Darren says with a hint of disappointment, if Chris isn’t mistaken.

They forgo the guided tour in favor of Darren making up fake voices for all the Roman gods he can name.

“You’re really strange,” Chris laughs.

“Thank you. Is there anything else you wanna see?”

“Um, I was thinking The Coliseum?” Chris snaps some photos, without the flash, and when he looks over at Darren, his new acquaintance seems to be contemplating something.

“How about we play a little game on the way there?”

Chris eyes him suspiciously as they start walking toward the monument. “What kind of game?”

“A getting-to-know-you game. I’ll go first.” Darren rubs his hands together and raises his eyebrows in the most ridiculous, yet adorable, way. “What, like, really fucking pisses you off? Something that really grinds your gears, as the young kids are saying these days.”

“Hmm.” Chris really wants to say intolerance, but he doesn’t want to delve into a deep discussion about the assholes at his school. “When someone from my house, usually my sister, has a glass of milk or whatever, and leaves the last little bit in the container, and then puts it back in the fridge. Like, why not just drink the last sip? Why get my hopes up for a bowl of cereal with milk, only to dash them?”

“Guilty. I actually do that all the time. My roommates hate me, and I usually forget to buy more. Ooh, I also drink from the carton.”

“You’re gross,” he replies, although he’s done the same thing before, too. “What’s one of your biggest pet peeves?”

Chris kind of regrets the questions as soon as he says it. Nothing probably bugs carefree, playful Darren.

“That’s a loaded question, man, but I fucking can’t stand judgmental people. I don’t know about you, but life without constantly thinking about what others might say or think would make life so much easier.”

The honesty takes Chris by surprise. He halfheartedly expected him to say something like people who use the wrong version of _‘your.’_

“Like, if we lived in a world without judgment, I would tell you to dirty dance on that column, and then I’d take your picture… _with_ the flash on.”

Chris snorts. “That would never, ever, happen.”

“C’mon,” Darren nudges Chris’s shoulder and the light touch makes Chris blush a little. “It isn’t that crazy. Surely you’ve done worse than that. Aha! I have my next question. What is the most outlandish, balls-to-the-wall thing you’ve ever done?” 

Darren’s eyes burn into him in delight and Chris is almost compelled to answer with the truth, which was eating a whole pizza and an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s one night while his parents took Hannah to see a specialist in San Diego.

But he can’t say that.

He settles on, “Honestly, coming here, by myself, no less. It took over a year for me to raise the money and convince my parents to let me. I presented a decent enough argument that they actually gave me extra money. Did I mention I was part of the debate team?”

“Remind me not to start anything with you. I’m pretty sure I’d end up giving you half my savings, not that I have much, but I’d definitely give it to you anyway.”

Darren’s eyes light up, and Chris guesses that Darren could persuade anyone of anything, with much less effort than Chris. 

“Go ahead. You ask me something now, Chris. What do you wanna know?”

They reach the line to enter the Coliseum, and Chris asks, “What do you love most in the world? Like, what gives you the best feeling after you do it?”

Chris blushes immediately, realizing what his phrase could imply.

Then Darren laughs fully, candidly, and he looks so childlike and unbothered. Chris wants to be more upset, but he grins because, well, that laugh is infectious.

“Phew, that’s a, uh, _interesting_ question,” Darren says, and that amused, sly smile is back. “Jokes aside, and I thought of some good ones, performing in front of a crowd is really my bread and butter. It’s where I come from. The energy of a live crowd is, sometimes, dare I say, better than sex.”

It takes everything in Chris not to squirm uncomfortably at the mere mention of s-e-x, so he nods as if he understands and takes a picture of the beautiful structure in front of them.

“Oy, the sex comment was too much, huh? Or I was too much. I get that sometimes. I’m sorry, man.” His voice is smaller now when Chris peeks up at him through his sunglasses.

He noticed. No one ever notices.

“No, no, you’re fine,” Chris whispers, suddenly feeling stupid. “It was funny.”

Lying was never a strong suit for Chris, and he knew that statement proved it. Yet, with a nod and a side smile, Darren buys it.

“C’mon, let’s be obnoxious tourists.”

“Without the fanny packs?”

“Just wait one second, fanny packs are making a comeback. They are compact, resourceful, and they never leave your side, or waist, in this instance.”

Chris turns and smirks at him, and for the first time since leaving the train, he relaxes a little. “Did you just describe yourself?”

“Ouch, is that a short joke?” Darrens gasps, pretending to be offended.

The witty retort he’s ready with dies on his tongue as soon as they enter the wide expanse of the arena, Darren threading Chris’ fingers with his own.

“Holy shit,” Darren murmurs under his breath, while looking around in awe. “It’s crazy to think that so many people died here just to entertain a crowd.”

Chris wants to reply, but he feels like when he was a child hanging upside down on monkey bars, with all the blood rushing to his head. He can’t even think straight with another simple touch of Darren’s hand.

It’s then, walking side-by-side into one of the most spectacular monuments in the world with Darren, that Chris realizes this trip was so worth it for this feeling alone.

None of Chris’ peers have ever really held his hand before, and he doesn’t imagine a straight man would ever be caught dead doing so.

It makes Chris wonder if he could get away with pressing his lips against Darren’s slightly agape mouth.

He shakes it off, but Darren catches him.

“What are you thinking about, Chris?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. It’s just like high school, survival of the fittest, except the loser pays a much higher cost than their clothes being criticized or not having a date to the prom.”

Darren studies his face, and Chris feels like he’s been exposed on the one thing that could have Darren running for the hills.

“That’s totally not what you were thinking at all, was it?”

“Why did you get off the train with me?” Chris blurts out, suddenly.

He shocks himself by saying it, and by his expression, Darren seems just as surprised. But it’s the one question that’s been floating around them as they’ve shuffled through the city.

When Darren parts his lips, Chris shuts his eyes tightly, preparing for some awful truth.

“You looked like you could use a friend. Figured it’d be fun to show you around some places you were gonna see anyway. Plus, you seem pretty awesome and you need someone who knows at least a little more Italian than you.”

Ah, so Darren pities him.

Of course. Everyone else has too, including his family, acquaintances he’s met in community theater, and casting directors who have told him he wasn’t the right fit the few times he dared to audition for roles in Los Angeles.

“Oh,” Chris finally replies dejectedly.

Why did he think Darren would be different?

“Hey, turn that frown upside down, _mio amico_. You’re experiencing a piece of history here.”

_Amico._

If Chris remembers his brief attempt at Italian correctly, that means _friend_ , which definitely means Darren’s not interested.

Chris already knows he wants way more than friendship from his new companion, but he also knows not to test his luck. Back in Clovis, he couldn’t get anyone, especially a straight guy, to talk to him, let alone take him seriously.

Chris knows he should be grateful but he hopes, maybe too much.

And when one side of Darren’s mouth curves upward, his stomach swoops and it’s official; Chris is utterly screwed.

Before Chris can continue down that disappointing path, Darren interrupts his thoughts with, “You wanna get out of here?”

Chris nods, making a silent prayer that he could get through the rest of this day without falling any more into completely uncharted territory.

**

It doesn’t help when Darren chooses a fancy restaurant with a table outdoors overlooking the Trevi Fountain, and they’re surrounded by couples.

There’s an older man paired with a young woman, a young man with a woman who appears to be around the same age as him, and an elderly couple. All of them seem to look at their companions with unbridled affection in their eyes.

Chris’ heart skips in his chest as he wonders whether or not he’s even allowed to look at Darren like that.

He desperately wants to.

Darren gives him that trademark grin as they take their seats at the candlelit table. “What are you in the mood for?”

 _You_ , Chris instantly wishes he could answer, but he looks down at the menu and says, “I’m not sure. I can’t even really read this, but I’m starving, so everything seems delicious.”

“Well, you gotta have pasta at least once while you’re here. Do you like seafood?”

“Meh, I can take it or leave it.”

“Too bad. The lobster _arrabiata_ is fucking killer. _Molto buono._ ”

The Italian dips from Darren’s tongue and Chris wants to pinch himself. Who knew he’d find himself in a foreign country with foreign feelings, loving it.

“Why don’t you just order for me?” Chris asks softly.

Darren’s face glows at Chris, eyes dancing, and then, he picks the menu up again. Chris glances down at his own menu, but he isn’t sure why. The only words he understands are the desserts. He then shifts his attention to the prices.

_Holy shit._

He mentally calculates the money he has left on this trip and knows he can afford dinner, but he doesn’t know if he should. Maybe he should suggest they spilt something.

“Don’t bite your lip.”

For the first time Darren’s voice is low and when Chris finally peeks over his menu, the smoldering look on the other end of the table causes his blood to sing in his veins.

Chris inhales sharply. “Ooh. Sorry?”

He’s so confused. Honestly, he didn’t even know he was biting his lip in the first place.

Another voice enters the conversation to his delight and the waiter, who Chris thinks says his name is Marcello, spits something out in Italian. Darren does the same, and Chris is once again lost.

Then, Darren points at him and laughs. Marcello cackles back, making Chris cringe.

Were they making fun of him?

So, Chris acts the way he had throughout high school. He ducks his head, stares at his lap, and fiddles with his fingers, waiting for the embarrassment to be over.

He only looks up when he feels Darren’s foot slide up and down his legs. Chris jumps at the touch, almost knocking a bottle out of Marcello’s hand.

“Uh-oh, uh-my, I mean _mi dispiace_ ,” Chris murmurs.

Marcello continues to pour two glasses of what Chris assumes is wine before taking their menus and walking away.

“Hope Red Zinfandel’s okay with you.”

“I know absolutely nothing about wine, Darren,” Chris admits. His heart is walloping in his chest and he wants to run. 

This feels like a date when Chris knows for sure it isn’t, although he can’t help hoping for the opposite.

“Well, in that case,” he hands Chris his glass of red wine. “Get to know wine, man. It tastes good and it makes you feel fancy as fuck. Cheers?”

Chris grins, picking up the glass that feels so heavy and foreign in his hands, and meets Darren’s glass halfway. They clink, then Chris takes a sip; it has a fruity, crisp taste, with a bit of a spicy afterburn that sends chills down his spine.

He doesn’t love it, but he doesn’t hate it either.

“Hey, if you’re not into it, I can get you something else. They have a full bar. I can get you anything you want.”

And as if on cue, Chris blushes. “When I said I knew absolutely nothing about wine, I should’ve said that I don’t know anything about alcohol in general.”

“You’ve never drank before?” he breathes. Chris nods, blushing again. “Well, fuck me sideways. What else have you not done?”

Chris’ blush only grows deeper as he finds himself hesitating, not for the first time tonight. He doesn’t want to seem inexperienced, but, well, he is, and honesty seems like the best route to take in this situation.

“There’s a pretty long list of things, actually,” Chris swallows.

Darren takes a sip of wine, holding Chris’ gaze and runs his foot over Chris’ ankle again. “It’s okay. I’ve got time. Like I said before, I’m not into judging people, whether it’s for something they’ve done or haven’t done, unless it’s, like, some brutal crime or something, maybe. You’re not an international criminal, are you?” Darren chuckles.

“Far from it,” Chris replies dreamily, already so lost to the man in front of him.

“So, bring it on. Tell me the truth, and don’t leave anything out.”

Chris still feels completely intimidated, but he starts with the first most gut-wrenching truth he could spill, steeling himself with a huge gulp of wine first. 

“Ahh, I haven’t told a lot of people that I-I’m gay. My family knows, but, uh, other people just tend to assume, based on my voice, or whatever.”

Chris sits for a long moment, and he fears the worst when Darren’s foot stills against his leg, but then Darren surprises him by speaking up.

“I like your voice,” Darren says quietly, and then a little louder, “I’m totally going to get you to sing something tonight.”

“Please, don’t.”

“See, now I have to. What’s your range?”

“I’m a countertenor.”

“No way! That’s fucking awesome, man. I wish I could sing like that. I’ll just have to tune my guitar and think of the perfect song for you. Trust me, if you’re drunk enough, you’ll do it, “ Darren grins wickedly through another sip of wine.

Chris hopes Darren isn’t the kind of guy that will get him to do anything more than that by plying him with alcohol.

“Oh, so was that your master plan, taking me here and getting me drunk?”

Darren shrugs. “Well, now it kind of is. You’re in Italy, man. Who gives a fuck? You gotta live a little.”

“You’re right. I think our glasses are almost empty, by the way.”

“Don’t worry. Got it covered.”

Darren summons the waiter over and orders something - more wine, Chris assumes, and then, they continue their conversation.

“I’m just curious, and you can totally shoot me down at any time,” Darren starts, “but, have you kissed anyone? Not on stage or anything, but, like, for real?”

Chris looks down uncomfortably, but when he looks back up, Darren’s eyes are almost golden, shining softly in the low candlelight, and Chris finds that he genuinely wants to tell Darren one of his most private, embarrassing truths.

“No,” Chris confesses. “I tried to kiss my friend once, who’s a girl, and it felt so, so wrong. I could barely look her in the eye for weeks after it happened. That’s when I knew, for certain.”

“That you like guys?”

“Yeah, I had... _feelings_ before that, but that pretty much cemented it. I never wanted to kiss a girl again. I mean, maybe, for a part, if I really had to, but I’m not exactly leading man, love interest material, so--”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Darren reaches for Chris’ hand across the table. “You could be anything you fucking want, Chris, including a leading man. You have to know that.”

Chris nervously takes the offer of Darren’s touch, but doesn’t say anything else, because he’s too off-center from the way Darren’s eyes burn into him.

Thankfully, the waiter returns with a refill on their wine glasses and Chris snatches his hand away, causing Darren to whimper.

“I mean it, y’know,” Darren adds.

“What do you want from me?” Chris takes down the wine faster than before. It still stings a little, but he welcomes it this time around.

“Honestly, just want you to walk behind enemy lines a bit, so to speak. Try things on the wild side, or as wild as you feel comfortable being. I just--you seem like someone who really deserves a fan-fucking-tastic vacation and if I help make that happen, then, I’m all in.”

“How do you figure? You don’t even know me.”

He inhales deeply before saying, “You’re right. You’re so right. I don’t know you.”

For the first time, Darren looks sad. Chris made him sad, and the sight makes him sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry. I get defensive sometimes.”

“‘S okay. I promise, you can trust me. If I’m out of line, just let me know.”

 _You could never be out of line_ , are the words at the tip of Chris’s tongue, but they don’t come out. 

Chris can’t trust him just yet. He has been burned way too many times before, but he knows the way Darren chooses to express himself - no matter how abrasive - is all his own. It comes naturally, not from a hateful place.

Maybe Chris could give him a break for trying. No one else ever tries.

“Well, then, get to know me.”

He grins, and Chris can’t help but grin back - he’s happy again.

Darren thanks the waiter as their food arrives, and then goes on. “Okay, where were we? Things you haven’t done.” 

“Oh, no. You’re not getting off that easily. You have to tell me some things,” Chris counters, shoving a piece of gnocchi into his mouth. “Something embarrassing.”

“Okay. That’s fair. Uh, one time,” he laughs, eating a mussel and taking a swig of wine. “I was onstage in high school, and it was this really emotional scene. Full-on tears and shit. And, I must not have put my pants on properly, because, out of fucking nowhere, they just dropped, and it was one of the worst moments I’ve ever had during a performance. I nearly ruined the entire mood of the show and it pissed me off so much. Fifteen-year-old me wasn’t much to look at, either, if you catch my drift.”

Chris’ face gets hot again, but since he’s feeling a pleasant buzz, he answers, “I’m sure you were perfectly adequate.”

“Oh, really? Is that how you compliment a guy?”

“I can’t inflate your ego. I can only go by what I see.” Chris smiles, running his finger around the rim of his glass.

“And do you like what you see?” Darren questions around a mouthful of linguine.

“Maybe.”

Chris tries not to let his eyes linger on how Darren’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows hard.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Darren says, low and flirty. “How’s the food?”

“ _Delizioso,_ ” Chris tries, earning a grin from Darren.

Darren’s eyes travel down to Chris’ mouth for a second, and then he takes a sip from his glass. “Good job. Maybe I could help you perfect your pronunciation, though.” 

“I might take you up on that offer.”

“You better. I’m sure I could teach you a few things.”

Chris quietly goes back to eating and imagines kissing the tomato sauce from Darren’s lips. 

“Are you gay?” Chris finds himself saying aloud before he can stop it.

“That’s a, um, complicated question. I’ve had girlfriends, so the short answer is, not entirely, no.”

Chris instantly deflates.

Of course Darren's leading him on. In a city far from home, where he never has to see Chris again, he can be anyone he wants.

“I see.”

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I can’t be attracted to people of the non-female persuasion. I thought I made that pretty clear. I chose this restaurant for a reason, Chris.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“God, you’re adorable,” Darren chuckles fondly. “Have you seen this place?”

Chris nearly chokes on his pasta. “I’m what?”

“You heard me. Do I really have to spell it out for you? I’m kind of into you, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I, um, I mean, I know we were flirting just now, but--”

“Relax, Chris. Y’know, this can be checked off your ‘Shit I’ve Never Done’ list. Let someone like you, dude.”

Chris laughs for too many reasons, mostly because Darren is the most ludicrous and amazing person he’s ever come in contact with.

“Okay. We can also mark some other things off the list; like talking to a total stranger, getting off the train and touring Rome with him, telling him some personal shit about me even though I’ve only known him for about seven hours. Shall I go on?”

When Chris doesn’t reply right away, Darren does exactly that.

“Wait, am I still a stranger to you?”

Thankfully, Marcello returns to refill their empty glasses, giving Chris time to develop an answer. And when they’re alone again, the inquiring look on Darren’s face doesn’t waiver.

“No, you’re not a stranger. You’re, uh, just Darren.”

Darren quirks an eyebrow at him and grins playfully. “Just Darren?”

“Mhmm. Darren, a handsome student who writes dumb songs about Harry Potter.”

“Handsome, eh? So, now the truth comes out.”

Chris takes another bite of his pasta to avoid answering right away. “I think that's enough wine for me.”

“No way, man. It’s like honesty juice,” he says, raising his third full glass and swallowing down a huge sip. “I’m gonna need you to elaborate on this whole handsome business, by the way.”

“Oh, I was actually talking about a _different_ Darren.”

“Wow, way to crush me, Christopher. New rule to this little game: no takebacks.”

“I think your game got a little off track after that second glass of wine.”

Darren kicks Chris’ foot under the table. “Hey, now. My game is perfectly adequate. You said so yourself.”

Chris finds himself blushing, yet again, and Darren staring at him, yet again.

“You sure no one’s ever kissed you before?” Darren asks, licking his lips, and reaching a hand across the table.

Chris glances down, taking the silent offer of Darren’s open palm. 

Those stupid butterflies that everyone talks about suddenly swirl in Chris’ stomach, but he’s surprisingly okay with it.

“No,” Chris whispers. “Besides my friend, I think there was a boy in school who might have been willing, but I couldn’t--I wasn’t sure, and I didn't wanna--I had to be sure.”

“Ahh. I understand,” Darren replies softly, his thumb soothing over the top of Chris’ hand. “Hey, look at me.”

When Chris does, his head swims, unsure whether it’s from the alcohol or the way Darren looks at him like he’s something sacred.

“You can be sure now,” Darren tells him, with such deep conviction that Chris’ heart flies to his throat.

Chris has never felt like this before, so he just bites his lip in anticipation while grinning like a school boy, bursting with excitement for what the rest of the night would entail.

**

He’s floating.

Chris is all gushing and breathy, like a toddler on Christmas Day, and currently holding the hand of the riddle that is Darren.

He also may be a little drunk – just a little.

However, his level of sobriety is the last thing on his mind when they get off the metro heading to where Darren says is one of the most beautiful places in the city.

And when they reach the banks of the Tiber River, Chris agrees. It _is_ beautiful. The buzz of the city surrounds Chris and he squeezes Darren’s hand a little tighter, simply because he can. 

“Now, this is what I love about Italy. It’s so damn gorgeous at night. Like, just look at all the lights, the music, the different little shops. Oh, and here,” Darren drags Chris to a bridge above the river. “From here you can see the entire city, isn’t it just amazing? We don’t have a lot of these back in the States.”

Chris doesn’t reply, just leans against the bridge and admires the wonders in front of him, as well as next to him. Darren’s enthusiasm is electric. 

Darren’s lips part, like he’s taking in a sharp breath, and for a fraction of a second, he looks lost somehow.

“Everything okay?” Chris prompts.

“Y–yeah, yeah, sometimes I just can’t believe I’m actually here.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve been pinching myself since I got off the plane. It’s like we’re in another world.” “Right? I mean, where else can you fucking see this?” Darren points to the river. “A gondolier tenor singing a beautiful melody.”

Chris sighs, wishing he and Darren could replace the happy couple in the gondola. “Yeah, something you only see in movies.”

He loses himself, staring dreamily at the dazzling city, until he hears a snapping sound and looks over at Darren. “What are you doing?”

Darren’s holding his guitar and Chris feels his heart race again. Just when he thought he couldn’t get more attractive, Darren outdoes himself.

“Well, just because we can’t afford a gondola ride doesn’t mean we have to miss out on the experience. Plus, let’s mark something off your list. I bet you’ve never been serenaded.”

His puppy-like eyes twinkle and Chris likes where this is going.

Chris’ own eyes light up as Darren strums the opening chords to a classic song quite loudly.

_“You’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you.”_

Darren’s voice dips low on the next line. “ _You’d be like heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much.”_

Goosebumps rise on Chris’ skin as he imagines Darren’s fingers caressing him as intimately as the neck of the guitar.

“ _You’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you,_ ” Darren repeats, staying true to his word and focusing on Chris while smiling mischievously.

 _“Oh, pretty baby, don’t let me down that way. Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay, and let me love you,”_ he sings so sincerely that Chris can’t help but believe him.

Chris wants to stay in this man’s presence as long as he can; he wants this night to last forever.

But it can’t, so he’ll have to soak up every amazing moment while he can.

 _“Ooh, let me loove you,”_ Darren finishes with a flurry of rapid strums, and then speaks, almost bashfully.

“It’s not Italian, but, I don’t know. It seemed fitting.”

“It was beautiful,” Chris replies honestly. “You have a great voice.”

“I bet you do, too.”

Chris blanches. “Oh, um, I don’t know about that. The only songs that fit my range are girl songs.”

“So what, man? You’d probably sound better than half the original singers. And even if you didn’t, you’d be able to put your own spin on their versions.”

“Hmm, I don’t really like to sing that much. I prefer writing.”

“I’m gonna get you to sing, Chris. I swear. I’ll play you any song you want. Lemme--”

Chris boldly presses his finger to Darren’s lips, effectively silencing him. “I have a better idea.”

Darren awkwardly slips his guitar onto his back and raises an eyebrow.

Chris slowly lets his finger slip down from Darren’s mouth, and Darren watches the movement curiously, his golden eyes filling with what Chris can only describe as _want._

As one of Darren’s hands finds Chris’ hip, Chris swallows and leans in, his mouth going dry.

Chris is about to taste what he’s been craving even before he thought it was an option, and now, it’s finally going to happen.

But then Darren sighs. “Wait.”

“What?” Chris asks breathlessly.

“I can’t do this.”

“What the hell, Darren? I thought--”

“You thought right, but I can’t do this right now. You’re drunk, and I would love nothing more than to have you try everything on that list, especially this, but I also want you to clearly remember it in the morning.”

“I’m fine. I totally will, I swear. Please, I--”

“I want to. Chris, I do, but I want more than just a kiss from you.”

Chris kind of wants to vomit, worrying that Darren is talking about something that he’s not ready to give yet, but Chris considers it anyway.

When will Chris ever get the opportunity to be with someone like Darren again? Back in his miserable hometown?

He can take this one night and keep it in his memory whenever his everyday life feels like an endless stream of days that blend together with no escape in sight.

Then, Darren tilts Chris’ chin up, interrupting Chris’ musings, and clarifies, “What I mean is, I wanna see you again, and I wanna kiss you, and I want it to be fucking magical.”

Chris can’t imagine any moment more magical than this one, though.

“But, all night, you--The fancy restaurant, the flirting, the drinking, the damn serenade. _Now_ you decide to be noble?”

“Not really. What I’m doing is buying more time with you." Darren’s breath teases hot against Chris’ lips. “Building anticipation.”

“Now you’re being unreasonable.”

“Is it so unreasonable to want to spend another day with you, or night? Or both? If you’ll let me.”

“Yes,” Chris quickly answers. “I mean, yes. I want to see you again, but I don’t want this night to end.”

“Me neither.”

Even as the world seems to tilt on its axis and Chris feels like he’s losing his balance, an idea strikes him.

“Can you take me back to the station to get my bag and bring me to my hotel room? I’m not inviting you in or anything. It would be nice of you to see me get back is all.”

When Darren squeezes Chris’ hip, a thrill surges through Chris.

“Are you asking me to walk you home?” Darren chuckles.

“I guess so.”

“I am more than happy to do that, if you agree to something.”

“What?”

“I go back to my dorm tonight, alone, and we can meet up tomorrow? I wanna show you some things, if you’re down.”

“You sure I won’t cramp your style?”

“You sure I won’t cramp yours?”

“Depends on what kinds of things you wanna show me, Darren.”

“I’m not spoiling that mystery. You’ll have to find out tomorrow.”

Darren backs away, crouching down to return his guitar to its case and when he stands back up, Chris turns on his heel and begins walking in the direction of the station.

Darren races to catch up, and then falls into step beside him. “Well, don’t leave me hanging.”

“I’m not. You’re going to walk me home, like the noble gentleman you chose to be.”

“Fine. I deserve that. I’ll just have to show you how fucking ungentlemanly I can be, then. Y’know, when you’re not falling all over yourself.”

“‘M not,” Chris starts, tripping over a cobblestone on the path leading away from the bridge.

Maybe Chris is more than just a little drunk.

“You kind of are,” Darren laughs, before taking Chris’ hand in his once more.

His hands are attached to Chris throughout their bus ride back to the train station to collect their bags, and then on the short walk to Chris’ hotel. Well, Darren keeps saying it’s a short walk every time Chris complains about carrying his suitcase. 

Cobblestone roads and Chris’ drunk fumbling feet don’t mix, but the entire time Darren is gently tracing his long fingers, offering to wheel it for him.

While his heart warms at the generosity, he’s still annoyed that Darren won’t kiss him. 

It isn’t until they walk into the tiny hotel lobby that Darren lets go and Chris ignores the empty feeling in his stomach when that happens.

Darren hits the little bell on the corner twice. “Do you have a reservation or--?

“No. I wanted to be somewhat adventurous on this trip so I didn’t set specific hotel plans. I just planned on seeing where the night took me.”

Chris is reminded of all of his false hope about how he hoped this night would end, and it didn’t include Darren playing babysitter to him after one too many glasses of red wine.

He tenses when an older man walks out, appearing sheepishly. “D’ya two need a room?”

The man’s Irish accent takes Chris by surprise, but thankfully Darren is there to save him. “He needs a room. Maybe one with an awesome view?”

Chris finds the forever cheerful Darren borderline embarrassing, but ultimately intriguing. How does someone have _this_ much confidence?

As the Irish man hunts for a key, Darren whispers, “Where did you find this place? It’s adorable.”

“I remember it from some safe hotel list my mom told me about. Apparently it’s family-owned.”

A tiny voice interrupts their conversation as a petite older woman enters from a side room. 

“ _Qualcuno ci Connor? Oh, ciao. Buona sera._ ”

Chris had picked up enough Italian to say in return, “ _Ciao. Come stai_?”

“Do you two own this place?” Darren asks, unable to keep his mouth from moving.

“Yes. This is my wife, Alexandra. I’m Connor,” he mumbles, before handing Chris a key. “How long d’ya plan on staying?”

“A, uh, a week, sir.” Chris isn’t sure why this situation makes him nervous. He’s around older people all the time at home. His grandmother’s knitting club are like his best friends. Then, when he looks at Darren’s hand intertwined with his again, he knows why.

He mentally kicks himself for being in the Clovis frame of mind where seeing two men holding hands would be instantly followed by a rude and discriminatory remark.

“ _Piacere di conoscerti_ \- I’m Darren, and this is my friend, Christopher.” The ‘friend’ comment throws Chris off so much that he barely notices a key being passed his way and the hotel owners retreating to the back. The idea that he and Darren are just friends puts a nasty taste in Chris’ mouth. Then, Darren brushes Chris’ hair back from his forehead, and asks so damn sweetly, “Hey, you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

“I'm fine, Darren,” he says sharply.

“Whoa, no need to snap. I know this is your first time getting drunk, but if you lay down, you’ll be okay in the morning.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“C’mon, I’ll bring you to your room.”

“Thanks, but I think I can make it from here.”

“Did you even hear your room number, Chris?”

“No, but I’ll manage.”

“Don’t get all weird on me again, man. I’m just trying to help you.”

The look on Darren’s face is so sincere that Chris can’t help conceding; honestly, he’s not in much shape to walk down the tiny hallway without some kind of assistance, and he would never inconvenience the kind old couple running the place.

Chris takes Darren’s hand again, the touch so achingly familiar now that he hates to let go, despite his bruised pride.

Once they’re at Chris’ door, Chris poses the question that’s been on his mind since Darren helped him book the reservation.

“‘My friend Christopher?’ Really?”

Darren laughs. “We’ve been over this. You know how I feel about you. It’s not really anyone else’s business.”

“Oh, because--?”

Darren presses his finger to Chris’ lips. “Shh. Just stop. What was I supposed to say? _‘Here’s Chris, this guy I just met on a train today. He’s incredible and I would be making out with him right now if he wasn’t so drunk.’_ I figured it’d be better if I didn’t go into that much detail.”

Chris purses his lips around Darren’s finger. “Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh_.”

Chris really is quite drunk - it doesn’t hit him until he closes his eyes and drinks in the cool air of the hotel hallway. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop his head from buzzing.

He feels faint and almost collapses, except Darren grabs him. Hoisted in his arms, Chris has never felt so out of control, embarrassed, weak and safe all at the same time.

“Whoa, there, tiger. I got you.” Chris hears Darren’s soft voice say, and even in his queasy state, he smiles.

A huge weight is lifted off his shoulders as he hears his heavy backpack crash onto the floor. He then crashes himself onto the cloud-like mattress. His head begins to swim as he fights against the drunk, fuzzy feeling drowning him.

Chris feels a wet kiss on his forehead before he drifts to sleep.

**

Fractured memories wrack his befuddled brain as he slowly comes to and smacks whatever is ringing next to him.

Chris is scared to open his eyes because he has no idea what awaits on the other side, but the ringing – the fucking ringing won’t stop. So he does, and his eyes burn as it meets the bright sun of a new day.

“-ello,” Chris mumbles, his voice raw and cracked.

A string of Italian words rush out of the other end in a female voice, and Chris feels his head pound in agony to try to dissect what she is saying.

“Is this a wakeup call?”

“ _Egli non parla italiano_ ,” Chris hears the woman shout. Then, the shuffling sound he hears next makes him feel like he’d been hit by a bus.

“Sorry, sir. You don’t speak Italian. Yes, this is a wakeup call.” The man’s Irish accent rattles him as his brain struggles through its recent visual memories.

He remembers that voice from last night.

“Okay, thank you,” Chris rushes out before his queasy stomach forces him to sit up, and the effects from last night really hit him.

Chris got drunk, for the first time ever last night, with Darren.

_Darren._

He turns over, half expecting Darren to be sleeping next to him, but the other side of the bed is untouched. Then, Chris looks back at the phone and sees a white sheet of paper, propped up on a glass of water.

Chris fetches both quickly, the water thirst-quenching and perfect. He skims over the note before reading and his heart leaps into his mouth at who it’s from.

_Chris,_

I brought you ‘home’ last night, as promised. Hope your head’s okay. It probably isn’t. Trust me, I’ve been there. So I left you a glass of water and arranged for Connor, one of the lovely caretakers that we met last night, to give you a wakeup call. Sorry about the pounding head. Loud sounds will be rough for a while. You should get some food at the café down the street as soon as you can stand up. Save room for lunch though. I’m gonna show you around my home turf. Well, my Italian home, anyway. Take the 1 o’clock train to Arezzo.

Stay safe, Darren

P. S. Last night was fucking spectacular. I hope tonight will be even better. Unlike our previous encounter, I solemnly swear I am up to no good (Get that Potter reference, eh? Fuck, I’m a nerd). If you want to make some new memories, I’ll be waiting.

Holding the letter in his hand, Chris lets his mind drift, fantasizing about what type of memories he and Darren could make together. 

Last night was a dream – it’s as simple as that.

Putting the puzzle back together of what happened last night is so unexpected, so fulfilling. Despite blurry moments thanks to way too many glasses of wine, Chris would remember last night probably better than some years.

He marvels at the possibilities, but at the same time, fear overwhelms him.

What if last night was it? What if all that wonderful magic didn’t resurface when he got off the train in Arezzo?

But these questions are silenced by the memory of Darren softly crooning that stupid, romantic song from on the bridge.

His heart swells with an uneasy, exhilarating bliss, and Chris lets himself fall a little more for the flawed, adorable and complex man he met on a train.

He hopes Darren will be there to catch him.

**

Chris tosses and turns in his seat on the two-hour train ride to Arezzo – to Darren.

He tries taking a nap, hoping his little hangover will subside, but his mind just won’t stop racing. Turning on his side, he hugs himself, unable to shake the nervousness coursing through him.

Darren’s charming expressions, his mouth quirks, loud laugh, and gentle touch, haunt him. All of it is now ingrained in his memory. 

He’s engulfed in his thoughts when he hears _Arezzo, prossima fermata_ over the intercom, signaling that Chris’ time is dwindling.

Shuffling through his bag, he finds his mirror. Chris takes a long, hard look at his face, and his usual pale skin is a pinch scarlet. He had hoped that spending the day out in the sun would add some color, but to no avail. Tidying his hair, he sighs sharply, figuring that this look will have to do. 

He gazes out the window, and the Tucsonian view makes his breath catch. 

Italy really is beautiful.

But, will today be as breathtaking as last night?

Questions flood through Chris’ mind as he anxiously waits to approach the train station. What if Darren doesn’t even show up? Then, Chris will remember him fondly as a charming man who sings like an angel, but who’s also kind of an asshole.

He had to be there, looking goofy as ever, with that worn out guitar over his back. When he strolls off the train with his satchel hung off his shoulder, Chris walks, and walks, seeing no curly-haired man in sight that isn’t old or homeless.

Steps away from the front of the station, Chris wonders if he should just run away and get the first ticket back to Rome, but then a pair of pink sunglasses catches his eye as he sees Darren against the brick wall of the building. It’s then when he finally breathes.

Chris’ mouth dries when Darren removes the glasses, revealing his glowing hazel eyes, and his broad grin.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Darren snaps when he finally approaches him, his grin transforming to a scowl.

“Well, hello, Darren. Good afternoon. Nice to see you too.”

“You thought I wasn’t going to show up. I can see it all over your fucking face.” Darren’s eyes blaze, and Chris is considering running away again.

“Uh, I mean, you–”

Darren’s face softens as Chris struggles to speak. “Oy vey, Christopher. When will you get it?”

Chris swallows. “I wouldn’t blame you for not showing up. I was a drunk mess last night.”

“Oh, honey.” Darren tugs Chris’ hand, then before he knows it, Chris is draped into his arms with Darren’s nose against his hair. “I missed you last night, silly.”

Chris feels like he’s dissolving into little pieces in Darren’s arms. Chris has never felt so protected and secure, resting his head against him and slightly kissing his hair – hoping he doesn’t notice.

Of course, Darren does notice, if the slight hum in Chris’ ear is any indication. Darren smells of sunshine, soap, and well, something undefinable that must just be _Darren._

Abruptly, a train whistles, breaking the spell, and Darren pulls away, but to Chris’ delight, he doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Ready, Freddy?” Darren grins his boyish grin, and Chris can’t help but laugh.

“Yes.” Chris turns and smirks at Darren, and for the first time today, he loosens up.

This won’t be so bad. How could Chris ever doubt him?

Darren squeezes his hand. “Then, let’s go.”

As they walk out of the train station, Chris feels strange, holding the hand of the guy he likes, the way he’s watched so many other people do.

It also feels right, though, as if Darren should have been beside him all along.

“I know it’s early, but I found this really cool place soon after I came here, and I think you’d love it. You’re not allergic to dairy or anything, are you?”

Chris’ eyebrows draw together quizzically. “No.”

“Okay. Cool! Gelato, here we come.”

Soon they’re walking down the street toward a little shop, where Darren opens the door and leads them inside.

As soon as the bell rings signaling a customer, the young woman at the counter looks up, greeting them happily.

“Darren! _Ciao? Come stai?_ ” She gestures toward Chris and asks, “ _Chi è questo?_ ”

“ _Ciao, bella!_ ” Darren answers with equal enthusiasm, and leans over the counter to kiss her cheek. 

Chris suddenly wants to let go of Darren’s hand, until he turns to him and smiles.

“Chris,” he says, avoiding any other awkward qualifiers. “ _Il suo nome è_ Chris.”

The tiny counter attendant has dark hair and big, brown eyes that seem to be to glued on Darren while she addresses him, and only him.

“Ahh. _Si. Cosa vuoi oggi?_ ” 

“Hmm,” Darren considers the options displayed before them. 

Darren orders something in Italian and his mouth twists with joy, the kind that Chris is already used to receiving, and the attendant giggles before serving them.

Jealousy flares in Chris’ gut as he wonders how often Darren has been here, and if he’s brought anyone else here.

Does Darren have a thing with this girl?

The surge of resentment signals to Chris that he may have deeper feelings than he wants to admit. She keeps talking, and as Darren converses with her easily, he laughs and winks at her.

Chris feels like sinking into the floor, and his hand slips out of Darren’s.

Darren stares at him in confusion and gives Chris a container of gelato that looks like vanilla with chocolate chips running through it. 

“What?” Darren asks, taking his own dessert and paying the girl.

Chris takes a bite, nursing his foolish irritation and jealously. “Nothing. _Oh, God,_ this is delicious,” he practically moans as he takes his first bite.

Darren's eyes go dark for a second, but then he shakes his head, and scoops out some of his own gelato. “No, no, it was something. Don’t fucking lie, man.”

“It’s nothing, really. I was just wondering how you knew that girl.”

“Sophia? Oh, I’ve been coming here for months and she always hooks me up. She’s pretty cool for a sixteen-year-old.”

Chris alters his focus back to his gelato; he’s being irrational and he knows it.

“Is there something on my face?”

Chris turns to look at Darren after his question and the image in front of him makes him laugh out loud. 

From his nose to his lips, Darren has the chocolate substance all over his face, and Chris’ first instinct is to lick it off.

“Oh, poor baby.” Chris raises his eyebrows in mock horror. He reaches for a towel and starts to clean Darren’s face, and now they’re inches apart.

“This isn’t how I imagined you getting this off my face.” Darren frowns, slipping his arms around Chris’ waist.

Chris laughs at the sexual tension between them, steadying himself by holding on to his upper arms.

“You saw it going a little like this?” Chris leans forward, kissing off the last bit of chocolate from his nose. 

When he pulls away, Darren’s eyes are closed sweetly, and Chris wants nothing more than to kiss him for real.

He could. He could just lean in and lay one on him – but he doesn’t. And he’s not exactly sure why.

Instead, Chris rests their heads together, and kisses his hair. “Thank you for this, for all of this.”

He should thank him for so much more. Darren has made the past twenty-four hours the best of his life, but for now, a simple thank you would do.

“I’m so glad that you’re here,” Darren said.

“Me, too.”

**

Darren talks a lot, more than any person Chris has ever come in contact with. For everything Chris says, Darren has a witty retort or anecdote to share. Every word, every syllable, reveals more about Darren’s complex personality.

He also knows _everyone_ , from the little old lady who owns a local deli in the town square to the homeless guy who Darren gives three euros to every day.

Everyone seems to know him by name, and Darren eats it up. He grins that million-dollar smile that Chris saw the first time they met and gives them a sweet compliment to hold them over until the next time Darren graces them with his presence.

He’s an attention whore, really, who should probably be committed.

The way Darren lives his life, drunk on positivity and acceptance, is something that makes resentment course through Chris unexpectedly, but then Darren does something that makes Chris shift back to swooning mode.

Whether it’s kissing his knuckles tenderly when their hands are intertwined or placing light touches on his lower back, Darren is constantly touching him. They’re small, seemingly innocent touches, but they resonate deep inside in places Chris didn’t know existed.

Being touched is a completely new sensation to Chris. No one dares to lay a tender hand on him back in Clovis, other than his mom or Hannah. But, thankfully, Darren does it so often that Chris is becoming comfortable with the idea.

So comfortable that by nightfall, Chris is cuddled on his chest on a grassy hilltop at the Medici Fortress. The historical landmark is the perfect backdrop for the photo Darren is attempting to take at arm’s length. Chris is laying against Darren’s chest, probably smiling like a lovestruck fool, but he doesn’t care.

“Damn it, Chris. Give me a real fucking smile,” Darren frowns, gazing down at Chris’ camera. “I want the smile you give me when I say something completely ridiculous and adorable.”

“More ridiculous than adorable, I’d say,” Chris flirts back.

Darren wraps his free arm more tightly around Chris and kisses the top of his head, “Whatever, man. Let’s take one more.”

Darren stretches his arm out again, settling on a good angle, and Chris smiles for real this time to satisfy him. He’s glad he did because when he turns halfway Darren’s beaming.

“You look so hot like this,” Darren whispers as he brushes a finger over Chris’ lips, and Chris flinches ever so slightly.

“You look hot all the time,” Chris blushes different shades of red at each word. Flirting and being smooth definitely aren’t exactly his strong points.

Darren’s finger lifts Chris’ chin to meet his eyes. “You don’t sound sure about that statement.”

He’s fucking pouting and it’s making Chris regret wearing his tightest jeans.

“Don’t pout.”

“And why’s that?” Darren says, full of charm.

“Oh, you know. Just the same reason you told me not to do this last night.” 

Chris then bites his lip purposely.

Darren smirks. “You think you’re so fucking cute, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty _fucking_ cute.” 

Putting the extra emphasis on the swear word feeds into Chris' newfound confidence.

For a nanosecond, Chris thinks Darren will finally kiss him, but then, the moment passes once again.

Chris has never wanted to be kissed so badly, and he’s made that point pretty damn obvious. There’s still that insecure Clovis part of his brain is screaming, _“He doesn’t want to kiss you.”_

Then, Darren closes his eyes, takes a shallow breath, and gives Chris a small shake of his head as if answering his question. Chris ignores his impulse to pull away from Darren’s embrace, alternatively wrapping an arm across Darren’s shoulder and playing with a few of his unruly curls.

Chris shoots Darren a promising look, hoping his message of _‘Kiss me, damn it’_ gets across.

“Part of me wants to warn you to steer clear of me, while the other part wants to do so badly what you’re asking for.” He looks off to the side as Chris’ head swims with rejection.

The instinct to pull away returns, but Chris fights it again, raising his hand to stroke Darren’s cheek. “Y’know, yesterday a stranger explained to me how awesome the world would be if we could live every day without feeling judged by others. I’m not going to lie when I first heard it, I thought he was insane, because I couldn’t imagine a world without feeling judged. But now, here, in this gorgeous place, I understand what he meant, and I want that for myself.”

Darren sighs, his eyes wide. “Chris, what does that–”

“What I’m saying is I don’t want you to steer clear of me because you’ve shown me that I deserve everything I’ve ever wanted. Isn’t that why you asked me to get off the train with you?”

Opening his mouth to speak, Darren then quickly closes it. Probably for the first time in his life, Mr. Talkative has nothing to say.

Then, with a small laugh, and a smile, Darren says, “Well, whoever told you that sounds like a real nutjob.”

Chris laughs too. “Oh, trust me. He is.” 

Suddenly, the ringing sound of a bell tower interrupts them and Darren literally leaps out of Chris’ embrace. “Oh fuck. Shit, I totally fucking forgot. How can I be so damn, ugh, stupid?”

“Darren, use adult words.”

“Sorry, I forgot I had a little gig tonight at that restaurant we passed by earlier. Y’know, the one where I said the owners have, like, adopted me?” Chris nods at the question. “Yeah, them. So I play a set at their place every week and I completely forgot I scheduled it for today. Is it–If not, it’s cool, but would you mind if I did that real quick?”

Chris has never witnessed Darren so frazzled and out of sorts. It’s cute.

“Sure, I’d love to hear you play. Plus, I’m starving.”

“You’re the best.” Darren quickly kisses Chris’ cheek before throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s go. We’re kind of really fucking late.” “Of course, we are,” Chris mumbles to himself before running behind Darren.

**

They make it to the restaurant about twenty minutes later, Darren apologizing profusely to the owner as they approach the bar.

The owner looks delighted when Darren turns on the charm. “Oh, it’s okay. _Non te preoccupare,”_ he assures Darren. “My sister, we get her last minute to take your place. She sing so lovely.”

They listen to the woman in front of a microphone, who’s wailing some Italian song off in the corner.

“Uh, si, Giulio.”

Chris could tell Darren is close to laughing as he continues speaking. Then, Giulio rushes over to get drinks while Chris and Darren settle on bar stools.

“Oh my God, she’s horrible,” Darren whispers, though Chris is pretty sure most of the patrons don’t understand English.

“You could probably sing better than her,” Darren suggests, nudging Chris’ shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Chris blushes as they each have tall glasses of beer set in front of them.

“You were good enough for a stage. Doesn’t matter where it was. Oh, sorry I got you a beer. Figured you should try something new.”

“We’re in wine country, Darren.”

“I know, right? Living dangerously. I’m totally gonna play after this drink. Someone has to put a stop to this.”

“Until then, we just put up with her?” Chris groans, taking a sip of beer and wincing at the bitter taste.

“Yeah. We suffer together, Christopher.”

“I’ll still be suffering when I have to listen to you. Maybe I should get drunk again.”

Darren takes a gulp of his own drink. “Oh, no, no, no. You can’t. At least, not that badly. I told you I had plans, and they don’t involve helping you recover from another hangover.”

Chris is about to say something when Darren searches Chris’ face, zeroing in on Chris’ mouth.

“Okay. Noted,” Chris replies, swallowing some more beer. “This’ll be my first and last.”

“Okay. Good.”

As much as Chris wants to see Darren play for a larger audience, he wishes they were back on the hillside, alone, because now he knows that Darren’s considered his appeal, and that maybe, finally, they’re on the same page.

They both want each other, if only they could get the proper opportunity to follow through on it.

“You should go,” Chris tells him. “I’ll have a refill waiting for you.”

“Thank you. You’re the best,” Darren sighs in relief, kissing Chris’ cheek, as if he had been doing it for years.

Chris’ heart swells as he watches Darren head off toward the baby grand piano behind the lady. First, Darren taps the woman on the shoulder and whispers something in her ear. She quickly vacates the makeshift stage, and Darren sits down at the piano and introduces himself.

He starts to play the opening notes of a song that Chris doesn’t recognize, but he quickly realizes that it’s another love song.

He wonders if this is part of Darren’s normal set list, or if it’s changing because of him.

“ _The only heart I own is for you and you alone. That's all, that's all,”_ Darren sings, his eyes closing.

It has to be for Chris.

It has to.

 _“I can only give you country walks in springtime, and a hand to hold when leaves begin to fall, and a love whose burnin’ light will warm the lonely night. That’s all, that’s all,”_ Darren continues to croon.

It sounds so simple. All Darren can give Chris is time, but he can’t give him it throughout the seasons.

Chris wishes he could, but he’ll need to seize the time they do have and make something happen soon.

_“All I have are these arms to unfold you, and a love time will never destroy.”_

It’s unmistakable now.

Darren glances over at him, a private grin gracing his mouth.

“ _Now if you’re wond’ring what I'm asking in return, dear, you’ll be glad to know that my demands are small. Say it’s me that you adore,”_ Darren goes on, training his gaze back on the piano. 

“ _For now and ever more. That’s all, that’s all,”_ he finishes quietly to a small amount of applause.

Giulio turns to Chris, “He sing very beautiful, yes?”

Though Chris can’t really trust the man’s opinion on what constitutes a good performance, considering the act prior to Darren, Chris has to agree in this case.

“ _Si. Buono,_ ” is all Chris can say, still transfixed as Darren moves on to a more upbeat tune.

Darren turns it on so easily, smiling and stroking the keys with such practiced ease, like he was born to make music.

The remainder of Darren’s set is flawless and inspiring. Chris is almost urged to join him on stage, but of course he doesn’t. He knows he can sing, pretty well actually, but not like Darren who’s a consummate showman, and an entertainer of Frank Sinatra proportions.

Every single person in the restaurant knows how talented he is, as well, and after his set, Darren is surrounded by a group of excited girls as if he’s a member of the Jonas Brothers. Chris is sure at one point in time, Darren probably would have chosen a girl to spend the evening with, doing, well, whatever.

Darren takes in their praises, but once he thanks them all, he makes a beeline for Chris. He’s smiling like an idiot, sweat dripping from his temples.

“Whatcha’ think?”

“You were fantastic. I loved it,” he says proudly, and the look on Darren’s face makes his heart swell.

“You really think so?” Darren’s eyes are bright, and for the first time he’s acting a bit shy.

Chris rolls his eyes. “C’mon, you know you’re great. Don’t fish.”

He shrugs, then says, “Okay, I’m caught, but I would’ve been a lot better if you were up there with me.”

Blushing, Chris stares down at his fingers.

Darren continues, “I’m serious. You know, you really need to get over this voice thing or I’ll drag you on stage next time.” 

“I have a decent voice, but it’s not--I could never follow you, or sing with you.”

“Dude, that’s fucking nonsense. We’re going to duet before your vacation is over.”

The look on Darren’s face is so eager and hopeful that Chris doesn’t want to say no.

“Maybe, but not now,” Chris compromises.

“Great. I’m going to come up with the perfect song. You’ll see,” Darren smiles, laying his hand on Chris’ knee.

“Unless I come up with it first.”

”Hmm. Sounds like a challenge,” Darren says, leaning closer and bringing his hand further up Chris’ thigh.

Chris downs the rest of his beer and then clears his throat, growing bold enough to respond with, “Maybe it is.”

“Are you sure you’re still hungry?” Darren asks low in Chris’ ear.

Chris’ stomach grumbles a little, but Darren’s hand is starting to wander closer to Chris’ crotch, and he’s staring at Chris like he was on the bridge last night, right before they nearly kissed.

Chris blushes, nerves creeping back. “I, um--”

“If you want me to stop, I will,” Darren says, his tone suddenly full of concern. “I’m sorry if--”

“No, don’t apologize. I just don’t know if we should be getting so, um, cozy, here.”

“Ahh, gotcha.” Darren’s hand slides back toward Chris’ knee. “Do you wanna go somewhere? I can show you where I live.”

Chris craves being alone with Darren, but the implications of going back to his room fills him with unease. 

“I don’t know.”

“Look,” Darren leans into Chris’ ear. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready. I’m totally cool with whatever. I just want you to see my space, and maybe we can talk more?”

Chris braces himself for all the beautiful possibilities when he answers, “Sounds good.”

Darren grabs Chris’ hand. “Then let’s ditch this joint.”

**

In typical Darren fashion, he knows the bus driver and he and Chris don’t pay a penny for the ride. Chris makes a mental note to ask him if there is someone in this town that he doesn’t know.

Chris loses track at exactly how far his place is from the town square. He’s too distracted by Darren whispering in his ear as he plays tour guide, knowing the name of every building or area they pass.

He’s also distracted by Darren drawing circles on his thigh as he rambles. Chris thinks he doesn’t even know what he’s doing at this point because for whatever reason, Darren likes touching him.

It’s so natural, so intimate, and Chris can’t control the way he leans into it each and every time. Chris is so blissfully unaware of anything but Darren that he doesn’t even notice that they’re the only people left on the bus, until Darren jumps up and pulls him to stand, announcing, “This is us.”

He gives the driver a classic fist bump, and takes Chris’ hand as they clamber off the bus. They stroll up a winding road and soon come upon a stunning villa surrounded by olive trees.

Moments later, they’re in a beautiful lobby that resembles a five-star hotel. Chris admires the marble floor and beautiful paintings everywhere, and he almost wants to laugh at how a guy like Darren could come home every night to this palace.

“This is your place?” Chris asks in disbelief.

“I know, right? Fucking fancier than any of the dorms back home,” Darren remarks before acknowledging the small group of guys in the main living area.

He pulls Chris up a staircase, and they enter a hallway of rooms. Chris notices that each room has a name on the door and some makeshift designs to probably describe the people that live there.

They stop at the door on the very end and Chris giggles at the door decor. “Dare Bear, really?”

“Don’t make fun,” Darren says, reaching into his bag, and pulling out a key card. “My momma calls me that.”

Before Chris can make a sarcastic comeback, Darren pulls him into his dorm room that he can tell instantly is _Darren’s._

Clothes, sheet music, and even some used dishes scatter the entire room. It’s a complete and utter mess. On the other hand, it perfectly fits the man in front of him, who is attempting to hide his dirty underwear by shoving them into an already full closet.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, man. I’m normally not this messy. I’m just never here.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Chris says, sitting on a futon, one of the few clean spots in the room.

“You’re right. I’m a mess,” Darren agrees, and throws some papers on the ground to sit next to him.

An unfamiliar silence engulfs them and Chris takes this time to examine his room, hoping for any embarrassing photos. Chris discovers a mandolin on the the table, and wonders, “Can you play that, too?”

“Yeah, I learned in high school from my brother.”

“Of course you did. Is there anything you can’t do well?”

Darren reaches behind him for something, then turns back around holding two bottles of water. “Yeah, I can’t write novels. That’s your cup of tea.”

Chris giggles. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Resting his head on his right hand, Darren props his elbow on the back of the couch, “No, but I would say that. Actually, I just did. You’re going to be something some day. I can feel it.”

“I can say the same for you, y’know. You really were great tonight. I’d listen to your music, by illegally downloading it, of course.”

“Ouch, that one hurt, Chris. I’m so worth your nine dollars and ninety-nine cents, or maybe just the ninety-nine cents, on a bad day.”

The casual nature of their conversations are becoming more customary, and Chris has never felt more comfortable sharing the same space with someone, let alone a young man he’s attracted to.

And oh, how attracted he is to Darren. Even in his white t-shirt, sporting a dried beer stain from earlier and blue jeans that have more holes in them than material, he’s hot, and the greatest thing about it all is that this seemingly unattainable, sexy man, actually likes him back.

“Chris,” he breathes, the air between them sparking. “Can I, uh, mark something off your list now?”

Impulsively, Chris bites his lip, causing Darren’s eyes to grow darker than Chris has ever seen, and in this moment, Chris wants nothing more than to kiss every inch of him. Darren obviously has the same idea in mind as he scoots over on the futon, eliminating any space between them. Leaning over, Darren rubs his nose against Chris’ own, deliciously slowly.

“How do you make me feel like this?” Darren whispers against his lips.

“It’s a gift,” Chris murmurs, wanting more, now.

Darren lightly laughs before turning to kiss the corner of Chris’ mouth, as if testing him. The feathery touches do nothing but force Chris’ heart into his mouth as agonizing desire rumbles low in his belly.

Finally, as if reading Chris’ mind, Darren cups Chris’ cheek, and presses their lips together properly.

Chris’ mouth parts instinctively; Darren seizes the opportunity to suck on Chris’ top lip, and then his bottom one.

Chris freezes, his hands flexing at his sides. 

Darren keeps kissing him and places one of Chris’ hand at Darren’s waist.

Chris whimpers when Darren breaks away to murmur against his lips. “C’mon, just go with whatever you’re feeling. ‘S okay. It’s just me.”

Then, Darren licks his own lips before leaning back in.

Chris swallows.

Darren’s lips tastes like stale beer, but Chris is fine with that, because the pressure is soft and perfect. It’s almost too soft, like Darren is holding back. 

Chris squeezes Darren’s side and experimentally slides his tongue in Darren’s mouth. It must set off a switch because Darren presses closer, their chests touching as his hand slips down Chris’ neck.

Darren’s lips drag across his jaw, and Darren starts to ramble.

“God, you’re so hot. Wanna do everything to you, with you. Wanna make you feel good, Chris.”

Chris groans, suddenly aware of how he’s straining in his pants, and glides his fingers across the small of Darren’s back.

“Yeah,” Darren encourages as he kisses down Chris’ neck, taking Chris’ other hand and putting it in Darren’s hair.

Chris brushes his fingers through Darren’s wild curls, earning a moan from the other man, so he tugs at them. Then, Darren unexpectedly nips right near Chris’ collarbone.

“Ohh,” Chris breathes, unconsciously spreading his legs a little.

Darren moves in between them, and suddenly, Chris is laying on his back, with Darren continuing to suck on his neck.

They should probably cool down, but Chris enjoys it far too much to stop, and Darren must as well, because Chris thrusts up and feels Darren hard against his thigh.

They keep going, though, and Chris even rucks up Darren’s shirt to get at bare skin.

Darren’s always warm, but now, it feels like he’s burning, and Chris is burning with him. Darren still mouths wetly at the same spot on Chris’ neck, and Chris can’t help cursing, intense arousal barreling through him as Darren sucks more insistently.

Chris digs his blunt fingernails into Darren's back as a warning, but it only spurs him on further.

“Darren. Unhh, Dare,” he grunts.

“Yeah? Hold on,” Darren answers, pulling away for a second before returning to where he was.

Chris’ whole body goes taut, like he’s a string on one of Darren’s instruments getting expertly plucked, except Darren’s barely touched him.

Oh, but what if Darren did?

Chris’ mind fills with how Darren’s fingers would feel, on him, in him, and he reaches his breaking point, embarrassingly spilling, hot and sticky, in his pants.

“Ohh, oh my God. Shit,” Chris swears as soon as he stops shaking. “Fuck.”

Darren brushes his lips against Chris' neck. “What’s wrong? You okay, babe?”

Chris’ heart skips in his chest at the term of endearment. “Yeah, I, uh, yeah. More than okay, actually.”

“Oh. Oh! I kinda thought so. I’m that good, eh?” Darren chuckles, nuzzling behind Chris’ ear.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m a teenage boy.”

“Hey! Don’t take this away from me.” Then, he adds more quietly, “Have you ever gotten off before?”

“Yeah. Not--Never with anybody.”

“Fuck,” Darren says under his breath, and then brushes the hair back from Chris’ forehead. “It’s okay, y’know. I mean, it probably feels gross for you, but it happens sometimes.”

Darren shrugs and starts to sit up. “I got some clean sweats if you want.”

“No, come back,” Chris whines, tugging at Darren’s hand.

“I will,” Darren assures him with a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll get you a washcloth and some privacy, okay?”

Then, Darren gets up and digs through a dresser drawer. “You can have a shirt, too, if you want.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly--”

Then a dark blue shirt and gray sweatpants are tossed onto his lap.

“It’s totally fine. I think I have some wet wipes somewhere, too, actually,” Darren goes on, crossing the room to search through his bedside table. Then, he throws a pack of said items in Chris’ direction, and clears his throat.

“I’m going to, um, go for a second. You can get changed if you want, or don’t.”

Darren hurries over to his en suite bathroom and slams the door.

Chris wonders how it will look when he’s seen wearing Darren’s clothes, but whatever people assume would be pretty damn close to the truth anyway, and it’s better than the mess Chris has made of his own jeans.

He strips his shirt off and puts on Darren’s. It smells of linen, fabric softener and body wash, and Chris assumes this is probably one of the cleanest things in his room. His mind drifts to how many times Darren’s worn this shirt. It’s clean, but obviously well-worn, by the loose fit. 

Chris imagines this is Darren’s go-to when he’s running late for class or a gig. It feels so comforting and warm, just like Darren, and Chris wants nothing more than to carry that feeling with him forever. But he can’t. He _knows_ he can’t and that one day, all of this will be a distant memory.

Before the sadness of that idea hits him, Chris hears a loud moan. 

“ _Oh, ohh, fuck,_ ” Darren curses from behind the door, and then there’s a sound of skin wetly smacking against skin.

Despite what they’ve done, Chris blushes and takes off his pants and underwear, opening the wipes to clean himself up. But the friction, combined with what he figures has to be going on mere feet away in Darren’s bathroom, only causes a rush of blood straight to his cock.

Still, he manages to quickly get the drying substance off of himself, and slips the offered pants on.

He curls up in a ball and hears what must be water running. It might drown out the noise of Darren jerking off, but it doesn’t dampen the images in his brain of what Darren might look like naked.

All that olive-toned skin on display, for Chris to freely touch, and maybe even taste. Darren’s lean arms and bare chest, tapering to his trim waist, and leading to his thick, flushed cock bobbing between his legs, and dripping with precome. 

Chris’ arousal only grows as he scrambles for completely unsexy thoughts to calm down, but he doesn’t have time to contemplate further, because the door swings open and Darren’s zipping up his fly.

“Hey.” Darren smiles sweetly at him, a harsh contrast to what he must have been doing just now. “I see you got comfortable, yeah? Glad you took my offer.”

Chris looks down at the giant capital _‘M’_ emblazoning his - _Darren’s_ \- shirt, and flushes yet again. “I, um, yeah. Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“Oh, hush.” He musses Chris’ hair. “Don’t sweat it. It was my fault your clothes got ruined.”

“True.”

Darren sits down on his bed, turning away from where Chris can see. His grunts still run through Chris’ brain on a loop, causing the heat in Chris’ cheeks, and between his legs, to linger on.

“So, um,” Darren starts awkwardly, looking over his shoulder. “Since you’re practically in your pj’s already, I figured, maybe you could stay here?”

Chris doesn’t move, willing himself to relax. “You’ve already been so nice. I don’t know.”

Darren tilts his head fondly and gives Chris a tiny smirk. “It’s not like you have a curfew or anything. Just, c’mere.”

After a few moments, and some brief adjusting, Chris takes Darren’s offer and tentatively sits on the bed.

“I wanna get my cuddle on, okay? That’s all. We already did the fun stuff,” Darren assures, swinging his now boxer-clad legs up onto the mattress.

“ ‘Kay,” Chris gulps.

Darren pecks him on the lips. “You’re so cute.” He looks like he’s about to say something more, but his mouth drops open, and his fingers graze a tender, throbbing spot on Chris’ neck, close to his collarbone.

“Fuck. I did a number on you, didn’t I?” Darren says, in awe of his handiwork.

“What?”

“Dude, you have a massive hickey. Pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, God,” Chris groans.

“Relax. It’s low enough that you can probably hide it if you want, but I wouldn’t. It’s another memento of your vacation. Besides, it’s kinda sexy.”

“Says the person who won’t be walking around with a giant mouth-shaped bruise on his neck.”

Darren’s eyes pointedly trail down Chris’ chest. “I can, uh, make more.”

“Really?” Chris whispers and bites his lip.

“Stop it. You know I can’t fucking handle when you do that.”

Chris smirks knowingly and Darren’s cradling his jaw, bringing their lips together yet again.

“Alright.” Darren sighs heavily as they pull apart. “Let’s go to bed.”

Chris sighs, too, thinking of a future where Darren says that to him every night, but he knows he’ll never get that.

They settle in, and Chris hopes for at least one more day.

**

Chris wakes up in confusion, his bed too hard, his body too hot, and a weight draping across his chest.

Alarm fills him, but then he remembers.

He’s in Darren’s room, in his bed.

When he turns his head, the sight before him makes him chest tighten.

Darren is now shirtless, his eyelashes fanning out so beautifully against his cheeks. Darren’s arm is over him, holding him close, while one of his legs is flung over both of Chris’.

Darren looks so utterly relaxed, in comparison to the frenzied way he moves when he’s awake; it takes Chris’ breath away.

Chris takes a moment to absorb the situation he finds himself in – one he couldn’t even imagine happening when he booked this trip. However, no matter how breathtaking Darren is right now, he’s still suffocating Chris with his body heat.

Obviously, Chris isn’t used to sleeping with someone, but he wonders if he could get used to it if it meant waking up draped in Darren every morning. Tentatively, he brushes the tips of his fingers down Darren’s chest.

Soon, Chris hears a hoarse, shaky groan and Darren stirs. He nuzzles his chest as he wakes, then his sleepy, blinking eyes meet Chris’ own.

“G' morning,” Darren mumbles, then he moves slowly, unpeeling his limbs from Chris.

Before he could whine about the sudden lack of contact, he feels Darren’s cock against his hip through his boxers.

Darren notices Chris’ wide-eyed reaction, and smiles. “Hmm. Well, isn’t this the best way to wake up?” He leans over, nuzzling his nose against Chris’ ear.

All the attention, plus the temperature of the room, and the hotness of Darren, is almost too much.

“Good morning, indeed,” Chris grins, unable to stop everything in his body from uncurling in pure excitement.

He thinks back to last night, and how mind-blowingly sexy the whole experience was, but he knows that when it comes to Darren the previous night was simply the tip of the iceberg.

That is, if this isn’t it.

Suddenly, Darren gives him an answer, for now at least, wrapping his arm around Chris’ waist and pushing him into a kiss. 

There’s no time for Chris to worry about how his breath is going to taste this early in the morning, not when Darren’s tongue is slipping into his mouth.

It’s so wonderfully distracting Chris has no idea where to put his hands or what to do, but thankfully Darren is fully capable of taking control. He quickly maneuvers himself in between Chris’ legs, and grips Chris’ hips.

“If this is too much--” Darren starts, his breath hot against Chris’ mouth.

“It’s not.”

“‘Kay. Good.”

Darren’s hardness nudges against Chris’ own quickly growing arousal, and Chris thinks then, that maybe it is too much. Still, when Darren grinds against him once more and pants into Chris’ neck, he realizes he could never get enough.

Chris taps Darren’s lower back to get his attention.

“Wait.”

“What? Fuck, I knew it. ‘M sorry. With you, I just can’t--”

“Dare, it’s okay. It’s more than okay. I--I want something else,” Chris whispers.

Darren lifts his head. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you made me feel so good last night, I--” he pauses, the playful look in Darren’s eyes throwing him off. “I figure I’d return the favor?”

“First of all, it wasn’t a favor.” Darren leans back down, mouthing lightly at the hickey from last night. “It was my pleasure, and privilege, to get you off, and you don’t owe me anything in return.”

“Oh, _ohh,_ but I want--I wanna touch you.”

Darren kisses up Chris’ neck, and then stops right below his ear. “Yeah?”

“Mmm. Uh huh.”

Darren groans and rolls off of him. “There’s some, uh, lotion in the drawer of my nightstand.”

Chris turns toward the nightstand and rummages through it with shaking hands.

He wants to do this. 

Really, he does.

He grabs the bottle and turns back around to face Darren, still clutching the lotion tight.

“Hey, c’mere,” Darren offers gently, caressing Chris’ cheek and kissing him sweetly. “Relax, babe.”

Chris drops the bottle onto the bed, and Darren takes Chris’ hand, placing it over Darren’s still-clothed cock.

“This is for you, okay? Don’t worry. I’ll show you how I like it,” Darren assures him.

“O-okay.”

Darren kisses him again, and Chris gains the courage to rub his hand against Darren.

“Unhh, yeah, like that,” Darren murmurs encouragingly. “Keep doing that.”

Chris brings his hand further down, cupping Darren, and then pressing a little harder. Darren’s eyes close and his mouth drops open, and it’s the most beautiful he has ever looked.

“I wanna see you,” Chris whispers in awe.

Darren blinks his eyes open and grins. “I’m right here.”

“I mean--”

“I know. Just do it, sweetheart.”

Chris gulps, playing with the waistband of Darren’s boxers before sliding them down his hips. His eyes widen when he dares to look down at Darren’s cock springing free. It’s not very long, but big enough, in perfect proportion with Darren’s size, Chris thinks; it’s thick and flushed, with wetness shining at the head.

Chris’ mouth waters with the urge to lick and suck at it, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he remembers to pick up the bottle of lotion that fell between them. Then, he puts some on one hand and rubs it between his palms.

Finally, Chris wraps a hand around Darren and strokes him a couple times.

“Oh, Chris, fuck yes. That’s perfect. Don't stop.”

Chris strokes him a little faster, and Darren brings their mouths together sloppily.

Hope flares briefly in his heart at the sounds Darren’s making. He groans loudly as Chris’ hand begins to cramp a little, but he doesn’t stop. He’s never felt more in charge, and the thought pushes him to tighten his grip around Darren.

“ _Ohgod, Chris_ ,” he growls almost theatrically, and he comes vigorously, pouring himself onto Chris’ fist. With his face wrenched, his body stiff, he collapses with his full weight onto Chris, panting.

They stay like that for a few moments, and Chris is praying this isn’t all a dream, that Hannah or his mom won’t be waking him up from this.

Finally, Darren shakes his head and props up on his elbows, taking some of his weight off. He beams down at Chris, giving him that same look he did when he agreed to get off the train with him.

“Holy shit, Chris,” he bends and kisses him tenderly.

“Was that okay?” Chris breathes, running his fingers down Darren’s arm.

Returning to his spot on the bed, and grabbing a wet wipe, Darren cleans his mess off Chris.

“More than fucking okay,” Darren whispers close to his ear, his voice faint and harsh.

Chris screws his eyes shut, coming apart at the seams. He had no idea he could make someone feel like that. It’s indescribable.

“Hey,” Chris finally opens his eyes to see Darren above him. “You’re biting your lip.”

Chris grins up at him playfully. “Oh, does that bother you?”

Instead of answering, Darren kisses him very gently at the corner of his mouth. 

“You have the most beautiful skin. I kinda feel guilty wanting to mark it up so badly,” Darren whispers in his ear, and begins to trail featherlight kisses around his ear and down his neck.

Chris wants to stay forever – in Darren’s bed, in his arms, with his kisses, in this moment. Still, the sun creeps more into the room and Chris knows the next day means they would have to part again. But what if –

“You should come back with me,” Chris mumbles, quietly and all at once.

“What?”

“Pack a bag and spend the rest of the week with me in Rome. We can do touristy stuff, if you have other places you’d like to go, or we can stay at my hotel and continue doing, well, this. If you want.”

Chris barely finishes speaking before Darren pulls him into his arms and kisses him passionately.

“You’re full of surprises this morning,” Darren murmurs against his lips. “Uh, yeah. I’d love to.” He gazes down, and suddenly against his lips. “But, um, just so you know, this isn’t just about what happened last night, or this morning.”

“I, uh, yeah. Alright.”

Words fail him as the nature of the kiss shifts, from sweet-tempered and polite, to desperate and needy as Darren’s tongue slides into his mouth.

Chris’ lips are beginning to get sore and his back aches from the hard mattress, but he couldn’t care less. He’s far too busy losing himself in Darren – at least for the next five days.. 

**

“Everyone say Julius Caesar was the greatest Roman emperor. Sure, he was cool, especially when Marlon Brando portrayed him, but Constantine the Great was definitely smarter. I mean, he used Christianity as a political tool to gain power!”

Chris rattles on another random history factoid, and Darren appears to be alert and at least half-interested.

They’ve been at this for hours, Chris dragging him from museum to museum, years of reading and late night Google searches finally paying off as Chris spits out odd details about Roman artifacts. And after every single one, there’s Darren, holding his hand tightly, and smiling at him affectionately.

“Oh, how I could listen to you talk about Roman leaders all day,” he says dryly as they walk to the bus stop.

“Well, if you like that, don’t get me started on my love for Her Royal Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.”

Darren laughs. “Don’t get me started about why Esmerelda is the best female character Disney has ever done and I think we’re good.”

Back at home, having a conversation like this would almost always lead to snide remarks and name calling but, here, he could hold hands with a guy while talking about the nerdiest subjects and feel utterly comfortable in his own skin.

He probably won’t feel like this again so he’s going to soak up every moment.

Chris wants to kiss him, but he knows he isn’t that brave yet. Instead, he’s content with sitting next to Darren on the bus and playing with his curls as the conversation continues.

The afterglow of their amazing morning remains on Chris’ face. He may not be ready to full on make out with Darren in front of a crowd of tourists, but he does offer light touches that make Darren beam, and that’s enough for now.

“What’s next, Mr. History? I think we’ve exhausted every museum in this city. I’m beat.”

“How about food? And then, my place?”

Chris’ fingers come to rest on the back of Darren’s neck, underneath his mass of hair.

“Mmm,” Darren hums in response. “Sounds fucking amazing. How about food at your place? As much I enjoy going out, I have been dying to get you alone again.”

Chris immediately thinks back to this morning and wonders what exactly Darren has in mind.

**

When they return to Chris’ hotel for the night, Chris has to temporarily store away all his lustful thoughts, because the sweet, old hotel owners spark up a conversation with them. 

Connor is soft-spoken, not saying much, unless Darren directs a question directly at him. On the other hand, Alexandra is verbose, and probably more so in Chris’ eyes. He doesn’t speak as much Italian as Darren, who could probably have a full blown conversation with a squirrel, of any nationality, in some random park for hours and be happy about it. 

Naturally, with an adorable Italian woman in front of him, he’s stuck like glue.

The two go back and forth easily in a language he doesn’t understand, so Chris just stands there, making sure to laugh when Darren laughs, though he’s never really in on the jokes.

It kind of reminds Chris of Clovis, but better, because at least Darren is there, holding his waist, tracing up and down his hip. Another difference is that the older couple doesn’t seem to care about two men showing affection.

Chris hears Alexandra says call them _carino_ several times. He takes the compliment in stride, because she’s right, they are quite cute together.

Chris sends Darren looks signaling his impatience, but he’s unable to drag Darren back to his room (or is it _their_ room now?) until he whispers something brazenly intimate in Darren’s ear. 

Then, he barely has a chance to lock the door as Darren eyes him up and down and quickly leads them to the bed. Chris is spread underneath him, arousal burning hot through his body while Darren sucks at the hickey that he made last night, working his way up from there.

Chris thrusts up with a groan and Darren insistently presses his leg between Chris’ own.

Then, Darren kisses him on the mouth, confessing against Chris’ lips, “God, wanna blow you so bad.”

“What?” Chris exhales harshly. “Really? Have you ever done that before?”

Darren grinds against him. “Does it matter?”

“Ohh, um, a little?”

Darren sighs. “Are we really doing this now?”

“Doing what now?”

Darren pulls back to look Chris in the eyes. “Having the whole _‘what have you done and who have you done it with’_ conversation? ‘Cause, really, I could think of a better time than right after say I want your dick in my mouth.”

Chris blushes, despite what they’ve already done. “I know I should have asked sooner, but, things happened, and I didn’t really get a chance. I still don't really know much about you.”

“Well, you could’ve asked earlier, instead of feeding your own history boner.”

“Yeah, in the middle of a museum is the perfect place for me to bring that up,” Chris retorts. 

Then, Darren rests his forehead against Chris’ own and kisses him briefly.

“Fuck, why do you have to be so logical?” Darren chuckles. “You’re right. We should have talked about this, I guess. But first...”

He rolls off Chris and onto his side. “There,” he grins. “First of all, yes, I have given blowjobs before, but not many. I was probably pretty terrible, ‘cause I was sloppy and drunk for most of them. What else do you wanna know?”

Chris’ eyes stray to Darren’s lips, imagining how they would look wrapped around him. He doesn’t want to ask any more questions and kisses Darren roughly.

Still, curiosity lingers about what else Darren has done. “Have you ever had any boyfriends?” 

“Not strictly speaking, no. Those were just casual things.”

Chris’ heart drops, revisiting the thought that he might be another one of those hookups.

He remembers the night they met, when Darren mentioned that he’d had at least a couple of girlfriends, and wonders how serious those relationships were.

“Okay. What about girls?” Chris asks, his stomach turning.

Darren grasps Chris’ hands and kisses his knuckles. “What about them?”

“C’mon, it’s not fair that you know all about my practically nonexistent romantic history and I know nothing about yours, which seems to be quite active.”

“Not as much as you might think. I’ve only dated two girls seriously, one in high school, and one in college.”

Chris looks at him in disbelief. “That’s it? Only two?”

“Yup. I mean, I’ve had some fun in between those times, and after,” Darren grins flirtatiously. “But screwing around is completely different from being in a loving, committed relationship.”

“So, did you love either of those people you were committed to?”

“Wow. That’s a, uh, complicated question.” Darren swallows and glances away from Chris’ gaze. “In high school, it was my first time, and hers, getting serious with anyone. We were just sort of playing at what we thought a relationship should be. We didn’t really know what love was, even if we thought we did at the time. It was more of a fantasy than anything.”

The only firsts Chris has ever had, all with Darren, have felt like a fantasy as well.

Does this mean Chris is only feigning a connection with him where there isn’t one?

They both go quiet for a long moment, until Chris gains the courage to follow up his question. “What about the girl from college?”

“I don’t know. It was definitely different than the other one. We dated for a bit, and maybe it could have gone somewhere, but then I found out I was going to be gone for a year. I didn’t think I could ask her to wait around that long, y’know?”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Chris reasons sadly, still unsure of where Darren stands when it comes to real, honest feelings.

If Darren was willing to let go of even a small chance at love, rather that stick it out, he probably wouldn’t consider a future with Chris.

Would he?

Chris realizes that this week really is most likely all that he’ll have with Darren, and if the countdown to their final goodbye is inevitable, then Chris will make the most of it.

Darren interrupts Chris’ depressing realization.

“Look, I didn’t mean to be a downer. That’s not why you invited me here.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

Darren tilts Chris’ chin up. “Don’t be. It was good that we had that talk. Now, where were we?”

Chris flushes a deep red, suddenly feeling hot all over. “I believe you were telling me how much you wanted to, um, suck me off.”

“Shit. You’re really sexy when you say stuff like that.” 

Darren’s eyes darken as he cups Chris’ cheek and kisses his lips.

Just like that, Chris quickly forgets all about Darren’s past, and their lack of a future together, instead focusing on how Darren lays him flat against the bed and keeps kissing him so softly. Darren unbuttons Chris’ jeans and reaches in his underwear to jerk him off. 

“Wanna taste you, Chris,” Darren admits in Chris’ ear. “Can I--?”

“Yes.”

Not long after that, Darren helps Chris shimmy his pants and briefs down his thighs.

Darren licks his lips and looks down at Chris’ newly exposed cock, murmuring almost to himself, “So fucking beautiful.” He grips the base and sinks his mouth down, tongue hitting just under the head of Chris’ cock.

When Darren starts to properly suck at the head, Chris involuntarily bucks up, searching for more of that perfect warmth. Without stopping, Darren braces his forearm across Chris’ hip, effectively pinning him down, but it only makes Chris want more.

Darren answers by taking him in further.

“Oh, ohh, Darren.” Chris’ fingers fly to Darren’s hair, needing an anchor to remind him that this is really happening.

He clutches Darren’s curls tight and it only spurs Darren on further, until his mouth nears the part where his fist is still wrapped. He starts bobbing his head up and down, and as Darren looks up at him, Chris bites his lip, causing Darren to moan around him.

The vibration feels so damn good that Chris can’t stop himself from spilling down Darren’s throat without warning. He swallows every last drop, wrapping his hand around the base of Chris’ softening cock.

“Sorry,” Chris eeks out once he comes down and Darren pulls off with a lewd pop. “I didn’t ask if--”

Darren kisses at the head of Chris’ cock and crawls back up to meet him face-to-face. “Don’t apologize. That was fucking amazing. I--”

Darren stops and brings their mouths together, Chris tasting himself, bitter and a little salty, on Darren’s tongue.

“I’m glad I could I give that to you,” Darren finishes.

“As soon as I recover,” Chris pets through Darren's curls, “I wanna give that to you, too. I wanna go down on you.”

Darren nuzzles into Chris’ neck. “Well, I’m not gonna say no to that.”

With loose limbs, Chris pushes Darren onto his back, ready to kiss him until he notices a bit of come and spit dribbling down Darren’s chin.

It should be gross, but Chris’ eyes linger there.

“You--you still have a little, um, stuff on your face.”

Darren raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh, yeah? Are you gonna kiss it and make it better?”

Chris wants to come back with a witty retort, but he does exactly what Darren asks, licking over Darren’s chin and dirtily kissing his mouth. Chris pulls away, suddenly aware of his nakedness, and slips his pants and underwear back up.

Darren may have felt, seen, and tasted him, but Chris doesn’t think he’s ready for anything more than what they’ve already done.

“Hey, getting all shy now?” Darren laughs, grabbing Chris’ wrist.

“I can’t--Not yet.”

“I’m just teasing. C’mere.” Darren pulls Chris close. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be that way around me, y’know?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Darren soothes him with a kiss and Chris sits up with a smile reaching for Darren’s fly.

Chris peels Darren’s pants down and stares at where Darren’s already half-hard in his boxers. Though he’s seen it before, his mouth waters and his cock twitches knowing that he’s soon going to taste it.

He traces the shape with his fingers as Darren quietly groans, “ _Fuck, c’mon_ ,” below him, but Chris wants to take his time and see how long he can draw this out. He wants to watch Darren come undone, because of _him_ , so he presses the heel of his hand against Darren’s balls, causing Darren’s legs to part a little more.

“Oh, God, Chris, that’s--that’s really good. Keep doing that,” Darren moans.

He does, a couple more times, but jacking Darren until he comes isn’t Chris’ intention, so he leans down and noses over Darren’s cock, taking in his scent. Darren usually smells good, but here, he’s the most masculine and smells like what Chris can only describe as pure sex.

“Fuck,” Chris curses low, mouthing at Darren over his boxers.

“M-more. Unhhh, Chris.”

Finally, Chris pulls Darren’s cock out from the slit in his boxers and licks at the head, already dripping with precome.

Chris looks up to gauge Darren’s reaction; his eyes are already rolling back and his mouth is slightly agape in pleasure.

Chris must be doing something right, so he continues, wrapping his hand at the base and then sucking at the head in earnest.

“Mmm, yeah, babe. So good,” Darren mutters quietly. “Don’t- don’t go too fast if you can’t, unhh, can’t handle it.”

Chris keeps the advice in mind, but thinks that the week so far has been about testing his limits, so he takes in a little more. Darren scoots up to place his hands in Chris’ hair, the change in angle forcing Darren’s cock down his throat even further.

“Oh, God, yes. Please move, Chris.”

Chris works his jaw back and forth, and starts to move his head up and down slowly, Darren’s cock deliciously sliding across his tongue, filling him up.

“Yes. Perfect, baby,” Darren babbles, fingers tightening in Chris’ hair.

He wants to rub off against the mattress so badly hearing Darren’s praises, but he holds off, wanting even more for Darren to reach his release.

Then, he does, coming down Chris’ throat with an, “ _Ohh, oh God yes, Chris. Fuck. Love your mouth.”_

Chris gags a bit, but swallows as much as he can anyway, until Darren softens in his mouth. It tastes a lot like his own, but also somehow indefinably different; he kind of loves it and wishes he could do it again. He pulls off, but takes one last lick at the slit in the head and smiles up at Darren.

Darren smiles back. “Not bad for a first-timer.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, come back up here, please.”

Chris comes up to kiss Darren, letting him taste the remnants of himself.

“Mmmph,” Darren breaks away with a smack of his lips. “I think we should cuddle now,” he adds as Chris rests his head on Darren’s chest.

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Chris tries to not worry about what other plans they can or can’t make, and decides to enjoy the warmth of Darren’s arms, and his company, for what little time they have left.

**

Thanks to the forever accommodating Alexandra and Connor, they end the night full on a perfect room service meal, with Chris falling asleep cuddled against Darren’s chest.

A few times during the night, Chris stirs and tugs at Darren a little tighter, savoring the feeling of his arms around him. Then, he eventually drifts back into a sweet slumber as he settles his head against the steady beat of Darren’s heart.

Chris wakes slowly the next morning, a smile gracing his face as he comes to, but his happiness quickly disappears when he feels the cold sheets next to him. He sits up quickly, scanning for any sign of Darren as he sees the aftermath of the previous night scattered throughout the room.

He instantly panics, the words ‘it’s over, and he’s gone’ repeating on a loop in his head. Disappointment fills him until he almost slips on a sheet of paper on the floor while he’s getting out of bed.

Picking it up, he wants to laugh and cry at the same time for falling back to his insecurities.

_Christopher Robin (is that your middle name? If so, that’s fucking awesome),_

_Our new friend Alexandra told me she’d teach me how to make fette biscottate. If you haven’t heard a fire alarm by now, it went well._

_Come meet me for breakfast when you’re refreshed after last night, which was amazeballs._

_Don’t be too long. :)_

_Darebear_

Following his demands, Chris rushes for a quick shower and picks the first shirt and jean combo he finds in his suitcase. Before he closes it, however, he does something he’d lie about if anyone asks him – finds Darren’s t-shirt he had been wearing the previous day and holds it up to his nose.

It’s a bit creepy, but if yesterday told Chris anything, it was that the next few days were most likely going to be it. This would be his big romantic fairy tale that he’d never tell his future husband about. But that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little memento of this time in his life, right?

So, Chris decides to slip the shirt deep into his bag and then, he strolls out the door.

Walking to the dining room area, he reminds himself that he should send an email to his parents. Of course, he won’t include Darren. He doesn’t want to give his father an early heart attack. He will, however, mention his mother’s fantastic choice of a hotel.

The beautiful place is just as intimate as it is authentic. Then, there’s the adorable couple who runs it all, who he sees right away when he enters the dimly lit room and takes one of the few empty seats.

Connor approaches him first. “You made it. Darren worried about you.”

“Yeah, I woke up a little late. Hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Oh, no no,” the older man shakes his head. “He’s been a delight. My dear Alexandra loves that he sings when he cooks.”

Not surprised by this new revelation about Darren’s need to be over-the-top, Chris says, “Keep all instruments away from him, or he’ll never be quiet.”

Connor chuckles hard, and pats Chris on the back. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

While he waits for Darren to make his grand entrance, he goes for the beverage bar, skipping over the coffee and heading for the hot chocolate. Being in a place where all they drink is wine and coffee, he learned very quickly that he’s not really a fan of the latter.

When he turns, he sees a curly ’fro from behind at one of the tables, obviously belonging to Darren. Chris has the urge to tug on it at that moment, but he holds back, instead deciding to kiss Darren’s cheek when he reaches the table.

“Hey, you,” Chris smiles softly at Darren when he sits across from him. 

He then almost snorts when he notices Darren’s outfit, a black apron covered with splotches of white powder, some of it streaking his face.

“See you didn’t burn down the kitchen, but was there an explosion of another kind?”

“Oh, this?” Darren laughs, and continues. “I may have lost an epic battle with some flour, but I still have to redeem myself.”

“Why don’t you come eat with me instead and live to fight another day? I’m starving.”

Darren nods his head in agreement. “Of course. Let me go to the back and get us the fresh stuff.”

Darren kisses his lips and the open showing of affection takes Chris by surprise. When Darren is out of sight, Chris searches his surroundings.

No rude glances. 

No catcalls. 

No acknowledgment at all.

Chris hopes that one day he’ll be fully comfortable with showing how much he cares about someone in public. Until then, he has faith that Darren will continue to catch him off guard.

“I return bearing food,” Darren announces as he strides back in, setting a plate in front of Chris and kissing his cheek casually. “Hope you like it.”

Darren sits, waiting to taste his own dish, and looking at Chris nervously.

“Well, you had a good teacher in making it, so I’ll give her all the credit if it turns out delicious,” Chris teases.

“Ha ha,” he chuckles wryly. “Oh! I’ll be right back.” Darren races to the kitchen and comes back with a jar of chocolate spread. “You should try it with Nutella.”

Darren dips his finger in the substance and then offers it to Chris, staring with unbridled lust as Chris sucks on it.

Darren grins slyly. “Sorry. Forgot a knife.”

“Right. Liar.”

“Ugh, nothing gets by you, does it?” 

Darren takes his seat again, and then puts the knife in the jar, carefully spreading some Nutella onto his _fette biscottate._

“Maybe.” Chris steals the jar away from him and gathers some of the spread for his own bread.

Darren spends the majority of the breakfast discussing the _amazing_ itinerary he’s been planning for them, which includes a Shakespeare in the Park performance that he’s beyond excited about. Chris doesn’t have the heart to tell him that all of his planning is pointless. Chris just wants to be with Darren. It doesn’t matter at this point if they’re touring the Vatican or touring his hotel room, finding new places and angles to explore.

However, Darren’s jazzed about the outside theatre. Apparently, it brings him to his roots, so Chris hurries with him to the park after breakfast.

 _Villa Ada_ , like most of Rome, is gorgeous, and Darren forces them to take photos at almost every pretty tree they see. When they walk closer to the crowd, Chris notices that much of the distinguished theater-goers are actually tiny tots in strollers being pushed by women. “Darren, is this the right place?”

He gives Chris a confused look, “Of course. Let’s get under this tree.”

With the shade of an oak tree underneath them, Chris realizes that he and Darren are not only adults without kids – they’re the only adult males, period.

Chris turns to comment about the predicament, but the man besides him appears almost as excited as the kid across from them making snow angels in the grass.

God, Darren is adorable.

When the show starts, Chris wants to laugh at how predictable Darren is. Of course, he brought them to a kid-friendly version of _Julius Caesar_ with over-the-top costumes, music and crowd participation. Chris is already developing a plan to stop Darren from jumping up on stage at one point.

Every now and then, Darren would scoot in close and share a little remark, his lips brushing against Chris’ ear each time, making his heart race.

“Are you having fun?”

Chris just nods; thankfully, he’s wearing his loose jeans. 

He curses being a teenage boy.

Gratefully, applause rings through the park as the actors take a final bow. Chris matches Darren’s enthusiasm standing to his feet to join in.

Once the crowd starts to dispense, Chris notices Darren’s mood change.“I know this is probably not what you were expecting, but I thought it was cute.”

“Oh no, I loved it. I really did.”

Chris isn’t lying, but Darren’s expression doesn’t appear like he believes it. He pulls Darren to him, and leans in to kiss him. He’s shaking, but Darren steadies him, holding his arms. When Chris starts to pull away, Darren places his hands on Chris’ face to pull him back in.

Wrapping his arms around Darren’s shoulders, Chris knows he’s falling even deeper. Chris whimpers when he pulls away, then Darren captures his lips again for a quick kiss.

“Kissing in public, eh? Another first?” Darren says, against his lips.

“Y–yeah. What are you doing to me?”

“Lets talk more about what I want to do to you in a moment,” he gives his sexy grin. “But before we go, I want to speak to the cast. Y’know, just to say how awesome it was. That okay?”

“Of course. Go on. I’ll be right here.”

Darren kisses his cheek before running toward the stage. All of the physical contact is starting to smother Chris a little. After not being touched for almost eighteen years, it’s still hard to take in.

The echo of laughter ends Chris’ thoughts as he looks over to see Darren mingling with a few members of the cast. He knows his laugh is infectious, but a speck of envy flares that Chris isn’t the one making him laugh.

Darren’s ability to connect with strangers as if they’re best friends doesn’t come as naturally to Chris, but he wishes that bit of Darren would rub off on him.

“Chris!”

Darren’s waving at him to come over to the group and Chris’ palms start to sweat. It’s not that he’s bad at making friends, but it’s typically hard to find common ground, especially when he doesn’t speak the language and has to have Darren constantly translate.

Surprisingly, the under-twenty crowd back home isn’t fond of discussing funny cat videos and the latest ‘Hoarders’ episode.

“Hey, this is Chris. I kind of dragged him out here today,” Darren announces once Chris approaches.

Chris gives a light waves and kind of sinks beside Darren as he continues on a conversation. Even though he’s delighted by their British accents, he knows he won’t enter any conversation without being directly asked a question. It’s nice, though, to have the option and not worry about his rusty Italian.

There’s some talk about hitting up a club for a post-show celebration a little later that night, and before Chris can get the full name of the location, an invite is given to them and Darren automatically accepts.

“Fuck, yeah, we’d be down. Right, Chris?”

“Oh, totally,” he says not quite as confidently.

“Great. Let me get you the address,” one guy says, and then looks between Darren and Chris curiously. “Are you two, uh, dating?”

_Whoa … What?_

Chris chuckles harshly like he does when he’s nervous, and scrambles for an answer. Then, he feels Darren interlace their fingers. 

“Yeah, we are, actually.”

“Oh, sweet, that’s great. My boyfriend and I always wish another couple was with us to make fun of the drunks,” he says, handing Chris a piece of paper. “See you blokes tonight then.”

Chris and Darren wave to the rest of the group, and once they’re gone Chris debates bringing up the dating comment.

Except now, Darren’s babbling about how excited he is to experience Rome’s nightlife that Chris decides it’s not important.

If someone as happy as Darren can grab life by the seat of his pants with no second guessing or questions, then it’s probably good enough for Chris.

He smiles at the fact that maybe part of Darren is rubbing off on him.

**

They meet up with the young men and women from the park shortly after they eat dinner. Apparently, their new friends are on some exclusive list and they get to cut the long line trailing the front of the club.

Chris is still beaming from the kisses they snuck in the alley behind the restaurant, tasting the vodka from Darren’s lips.

Chris had refused to drink any, wanting to wait until they got to the club despite Darren’s urges of, _“C’mon, Chris. It’s called pregaming.”_

Chris wonders how experienced Darren is at this whole partying thing.

Well, Darren is a college guy, who happens to fit right in with the group they just met. 

“This is so fucking awesome,” Darren yells over the music as they step inside. “I never get rushed in like that.”

“Sure, you don’t,” Chris says incredulously, taking in Darren’s tight jeans and his charming grin.

Darren chuckles and asks Chris if he wants a drink, and Chris is about to answer when one of their new acquaintances starts engaging Darren in a conversation about the merits of Shakespeare’s comedies versus his dramas.

Chris makes his way to the bar alone, but then he realizes he has no idea what to order. Luckily, a redheaded girl from their group sees him struggling and he’s quickly set up with some fruity drink that he thinks might be a cosmopolitan.

She smiles at him sweetly. “Hey, I’m Tara.”

“Chris,” he nods, and takes a sip of his too-strong drink.

“So, you’re American?”

“Yeah. On vacation.”

“Nice. We’re a traveling theatre troupe, so it’s a bit of a business trip, with some pleasure mixed in.”

Her eyes dart to the dance floor, toward where their group is standing, Darren now lively chatting and laughing with two of the guys.

“Ahh. I see,” Chris says after another sip. “Got your eye on someone already?”

“Perhaps. That boy you came with? Is he taken?” 

She’s staring pointedly at Darren as she daintily drinks through the tiny straw of her pink beverage.

Chris figures she must not have been around when they asked whether or not he and Darren were dating.

“I’m not sure,” Chris answers honestly.

“He should be. He’s quite fit.”

“Yeah, he is.” 

Chris gulps at his drink, watching Darren’s eyes light up as he pats one of the guys on the arm and heads toward Chris.

“Having fun out there?” Chris asks.

Darren curves his arm low over Chris’ back, one hand landing on Chris’ hip, and the other beckoning the bartender.

“Yeah, but I need a drink,” and then he adds low in Chris’ ear, “I need you.”

“I’m not sure this place is my thing.”

“You should dance with me.”

Chris looks over at Tara, who eyes them curiously, and then back at Darren.

“Yeah, sure,” Chris replies.

“‘Kay. Cool.”

Darren downs some of the golden liquid in his glass, which Chris recognizes as whiskey because his uncle drinks it at family gatherings, and always ends up drunk off his ass by dessert.

He quickly drinks the rest, while Chris swallows what’s left of his.

Darren’s eyes shine a little brighter already. “Let’s dance, babe.”

Chris lets Darren drag him onto the dance floor, some weird techno beat playing.

They face each other, Chris standing there awkwardly, until Darren’s hands find Chris’ hips.

“Relax,” Darren murmurs into Chris’ ear. “Feel the beat. Just move. Like this.”

Darren demonstrates by rolling his hips forward, their groins brushing together.

“Darren,” he grunts.

“You’ve got hips. Use them.”

Chris leans his forehead against Darren’s shoulder, and tries to work his hips, but the movement is jerky, not smooth like Darren.

“That-that’s good,” Darren encourages anyway.

“I want another drink.”

Another drink will make this all easier. He’ll order one more drink he doesn’t know how to say and then dancing with Darren will be the most natural thing in the world.

“And I wanna dance with you. I wanna see how your body moves, Chris,” Darren whispers as softly as possible in the loud club, while he squeezes Chris’ sides, only reminding Chris of his leftover baby fat.

With Darren so close, Chris really wants to give in, but he can’t, not with all these people watching them. He’s only recently grown comfortable with the more minor public displays of affection; this feels like another level entirely.

Chris blushes. “You already kind of know that.”

“Well, yeah, but there’s nothing wrong with showing it off, letting loose a bit.”

Darren gives him a private smile, making Chris feel like he’s the only one in the room, despite the crowd around them. 

Then, Chris’ legs turn to jelly as Darren swoops in for a slow, sweet kiss, while Darren’s thumb traces Chris’ hip.

“C’mon, babe,” Darren prods when they part. “You’ll be great, ‘cause you have me.”

Chris laughs out loud. “I’m not drunk enough to agree with that.”

Darren kisses him quickly once more. “Fine. I’ll get you another drink. Something good.”

They head back to the bar, Darren’s hand settling at the base of Chris’ spine while Darren orders another whiskey for himself, and a martini for Chris.

“You seem like a classy guy,” Darren shrugs with a grin.

Chris returns it with a smile of his own.

The moment doesn’t last because as soon as they get their drinks, Darren gets pulled into yet another conversation with one of the guys, Tara joining them.

At least, this time, Darren keeps Chris close while they both nurse their drinks.

Every time Darren says something remotely funny or insightful, Tara uses it as an excuse to bat her eyelashes at him or touch his arm.

Darren doesn’t notice, not even when someone suggests they do a shot and she squeezes in on Darren’s other side.

When they’re done, Darren nuzzles against Chris’ neck and asks, “How ‘bout a dance now, hmm?”

Chris glares over his shoulder at Tara. “I think your friends might mind that I’m taking you away from them.”

“Mmm, they’re cool, but they’re not you.”

Chris’ heart jumps. “Yeah?”

“Damn straight. Dance with me. Please?”

Chris feels a lot looser, but maybe not quite enough to let go on the dance floor. “Can we do another shot? Just us.”

Darren pulls back to look at him. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

After they finish their round of tequila shots, Chris’ head is already swimming and he steadies himself with a hand against the bar top. “Whoa. I think I’m done.”

“You okay? Wanna go back to the hotel?” Darren wonders, soothing his hand up and down Chris’ back.

Chris shuts his eyes tight for a second, and then surveys Darren, who’s still bouncing on his feet and showing few signs that he’s even had anything to drink.

“No, no. You go. Have fun.”

“You sure? You say the word and we’re outta here.”

Chris nods. “I’ll be fine if I stay seated in an upright position.”

“‘Kay. Enjoy your flight, good sir. Or, non-flight, in this case.”

Darren departs with a kiss to Chris’ cheek and heads out to the dance floor with a few of the guys, and some girls, while Chris orders a ginger ale.

Chris wishes he could hang with the rest of them, dancing and occasionally coming back to the bar for more drinks, as he tries not to let the dizziness take over.

He turns to face the dance floor and gets lost in the strobe lights streaming all over the art-strewn walls.

It’s like partying in a masterpiece, if he were actually partying, rather than watching his not-boyfriend live it up with near-strangers.

They’re having so much fun that guilt wracks through Chris, when he realizes that all he wants is a hot shower and a nice cuddle.

Of course, Darren’s at the center of the group, though, clearly enjoying himself, if the sweat glistening over his brow is any indication.

Chris can’t take Darren away from that, even if his attention suddenly shifts from his pounding head to licking up that pulsing vein in Darren’s neck.

Then, one of their acquaintances, the redheaded girl whose name he can’t remember, suddenly drapes herself all over him, and Chris’ stomach roils.

He should have asked Darren where they stand, and should have told the girl how much Darren means to him.

That way, she would be whispering in someone else's ear, with someone else’s hands resting on her hips, and she’d be turning around and grinding her ass against some stranger, rather than his Darren.

 _His_ Darren, except Darren never really could be his, because soon, he will probably go back to this exact lifestyle, drunken dancing with random college girls, and maybe boys (that aren’t Chris), and Chris will be back in Clovis, with his writing and some dead-end job he needs to pay for college.

Chris would have been okay with that future, until he met Darren, who turned his whole life upside down in less than three days.

Chris can’t let what little time they have left slip through his fingers, so he forces himself to his feet, approaching Darren as the music changes.

“I--I wanna get out of here,” Chris chokes out.

Darren sharply turns his head to look at Chris, and asks cautiously, “Wh-What's wrong? Are you gonna be sick?”

“No, I just wanna go,” he says, eyes darting between Darren and the girl - _Tara, that’s her name_ \- who’s still dancing, though Darren has stilled behind her.

“Um, alright. One more dance, okay?”

“No, not okay. You said if I wanted to go, we could go.”

“And you said you were fine with hanging around for a little while longer.”

“Right, and now I’m not anymore, Darren,” Chris snaps.

“Whoa, chill out, man.”

“No, I will not ‘chill out,’ and I’m not _‘your man.’_ ”

Chris regrets the second part as soon as he says it, especially as he watches Darren’s face fall. He’s not even drunk at this point, while Darren’s words are tumbling out of his mouth in a slurred rush. 

“Excuse us,” Darren addresses Tara, and grabs Chris’ arm, leading him to the edge of the dance area.

“What is this really about, Chris?”

Chris wrenches his arm away. “Seriously? That girl is all over you. Can’t you tell?”

“We were just dancing, Chris, which I would have done with you, if you fucking let me,” Darren says sharply.

“Don’t make this about me, Dare. Maybe you were just dancing, but she wasn’t. Y’know what she asked me before? She asked me if you were available.”

“She--what? What’d you say?”

“I told her I wasn’t sure, because, well, I wasn’t, and apparently, she took it as an invitation to nearly make out with you, even though she could obviously see that something’s going on between us.”

Darren’s lips form a harsh line. “Yeah, something _is_ going on between us, or do you still doubt me after I agreed to basically live with you for the next three days?”

“I doubt that you can do anything in public without an audience, and of course, you’ll always find one because everyone adores you. Meanwhile, I’m standing on the outskirts wondering why I’m even there in the first place.”

“God, is that what you really think?”

“Am I wrong, Darren?”

Darren takes Chris’ hand in his. “I’m sure if everyone got to know you--”

Chris chuckles wryly. “You’re not denying it.”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe I am an attention whore sometimes--”

“Emphasis on whore,” Chris blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Wow. That’s really fucking low. I’m sorry I’m not completely celibate,” Darren lashes out.

“And I shouldn’t have been? Being an inexperienced gay kid wasn't my choice, Darren. Believe me.”

“Yeah, well, you still don't have to shame me for enjoying sex, or attention, just because you haven’t had enough of it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just calling it like I see it, Chris. You’d rather make up an entire world in your head than actually take a chance getting to know anyone.”

“There are reasons for that. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Maybe I would, if you talked to me.”

“Everything’s so bright and shiny for you. Waltzing away to Italy and sweeping a guy off his feet? It’s so easy, isn’t it?”

“C’mon, don’t be like this.” 

“Like what, myself?”

“ _Chris_ ,” Darren says so warmly that Chris wants to open back up and apologize.

Instead, he only tells Darren, “I’m leaving. Say goodbye to your friends if you wanna join me.”

Then, he turns on his heel and storms out, leaving Darren in his wake.

**

The hotel room is quiet and empty, with traces of Darren everywhere, much like this morning. Except now, Darren is probably off sulking somewhere instead of surprising him, and Chris’ heart is twisting in agony, rather than floating in the haze of a sweet afterglow.

One of Darren’s shirts is still strewn across a chair by the bed, and the sweet note he left rests on the nightstand, serving to punch Chris in the gut even more, and mock how badly Chris had screwed up.

Darren had hit a nerve without realizing how deep it would cut him, so Chris can’t let him off that easily.

He pulls another one of Darren’s shirts out from where he buried it in his bag earlier and inhales deeply. He already misses Darren’s smell, and despite how pissed off he still is, he hopes Darren makes it back alright, even if it’s only to pack up for his return to Arezzo.

Chris stashes the shirt away, leaving it on top of his suitcase so it’s not too tainted by his own scent, and then he curls up on the perfectly made bed. He considers rereading the note, but he’s already on the verge of tears when he hears the soft click of the door opening and closing.

Then, the bed dips beside him, a quiet _“I’m sorry”_ piercing the air, and a little louder, “I’m such an asshole. I can go, if that’s what you want.”

"No. I don’t want you to. It’s too late.”

“In the morning, then?”

Chris finally turns to face him. “No. Stay.”

Darren scratches the back of his neck. “I can, um, sleep on the floor.”

“I don’t want that either.”

Darren lays on his side next to Chris.

“What do you want, Chris?”

The space between he and Darren feels like a million miles.

Chris sighs deeply. “I guess we should talk.”

Darren’s fingers twitch as he reaches a hand out, but doesn’t touch. “I was so fucking out of line.”

Chris closes the gap, covering Darren’s hand with his own. “I was, too.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“You didn't know. You _don’t_ know.”

“So, tell me.”

The moments Chris thinks of instantly sends chills down his spine. 

The name calling. The looks. The hisses. The bruises on his shoulder that he hid from his parents.

It hurt. It still kind of does, but this is a moment where he forces himself to open up.

“In my hometown, where I still live, I told you I was bullied. I didn’t tell you how bad it was.”

Darren scoots closer, his other hand stroking Chris’ cheek. “How bad was it, baby?”

Chris welcomes the touch. “There was a point where I-I had to be homeschooled for a little while. So it was just me, my mom and dad, and my sister. Other than that, I was pretty much alone. Lonely, except for the stories I made up in my head.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. It helped me survive. It was my escape, when everything got to be too much. It still is.”

“What happened when you went back?” Darren wonders, curling his fingers and lightly brushing Chris’ cheekbone.

“It got worse. I was hurt again. No hospital stays, but still, it was pretty bad, physically and emotionally.”

“If I were there, I swear to God--” Darren starts, a fierce edge to his voice.

“But you weren’t, and I’m okay. I just--Forgive me if I don’t need anyone’s approval or friendship. I’m fine on my own. Most people are pretty shitty, anyway.”

Darren tangles their legs together and smiles. “Some people aren’t.”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t have to be alone anymore, Chris. I’m damn near positive you’ll find what you need.”

“I kind of already have.”

Chris opens his mouth to add that maybe they should stay in touch after all this is over, but he knows that’s the alcohol talking. Plus, even if they stay together in some fashion, Chris will worry where Darren’s been, and more importantly, who he’s been _with._

He’d also miss him far too much.

Darren interrupts Chris’ private musings with a soft kiss, and then, he apologizes again. “Fuck, I really am an idiot. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I am, too,” Chris whispers against his lips.

“You weren’t wrong, though. I can be selfish, but it’s nice to feel wanted, even if that chick was a poor substitute for you.”

“What?”

“I’m not blind, Chris. I knew what she was doing, but I wasn’t about to give in. I didn’t kiss her, because I didn’t want her. I want you.”

“Oh, really?” Chris smirks. “That’s news to me.”

“She’s got nothing on you, honestly.”

Chris surges forward, capturing Darren’s lips and rolling Darren onto his back. Then, Darren clutches at Chris’ shirt and pulls back.

“Chris, wait. I want a do-over. Let’s go out tomorrow night. You and me. Maybe you’ll actually dance with me this time?”

Chris surveys Darren’s pleading expression. “Yeah, okay.”

“If you’re not into it, we’ll jet, I swear. We can just hang out here.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “And do what exactly?” 

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

Darren glances up at Chris’ lips and then kisses him, switching their positions and rolling them so that Chris is underneath him.

“Maybe something like this?” Darren adds, finding a spot low on Chris’ neck.

“S-sounds good to me.”

“So, now that we got our first major fight out of the way,” Darren comments between kisses across Chris’ jaw. “Here comes the fun part, the makeup se-stuff.”

Chris swallows hard, considering Darren’s slip as Darren murmurs against his skin and his hands wander beneath his shirt.

Chris is more than okay with what’s happened between them physically so far, and he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to more of the same, but knowing how the clock ticks on their relationship - it wouldn’t be so bad if they went further.

Darren has been so gentle and understanding so far, and his fingers - _God, those fingers._

Given the way they glide across piano keys and strum a guitar, Chris’ mind runs wild with how they might feel inside him, stretching him open.

Chris shivers and arches up.

“You still with me?” Darren laughs quietly against the base of Chris’ neck.

“Uh huh.”

“Good, because I really, really wanna make up with you right now,” he says, playing with the hem of Chris’ shirt.

“Go right ahead.”

Chris lets Darren take his shirt off, and Darren follows suit.

“Mmm, much better.” Darren smiles before kissing Chris’ waiting mouth.

Soon after that, their pants come off, too, and they continue kissing and grinding deliciously slow, enough for Chris to feel every inch of Darren against him, but not enough to want to get off right away.

“Dare, I--” Chris breathes, “I want--”

“What, babe?”

Chris is on the verge of admitting that he wants so much more than what Darren has already given him, but he hesitates.

“I want you to touch me,” Chris tells him instead.

“Sure. ‘Course.”

Darren kisses Chris again, slipping his tongue in his mouth as he slips his hand in his underwear.

The grip is dry and almost too rough, but combined with the way Darren licks into his mouth and then breaks away to murmur sweet praises, Chris comes quickly and quietly over Darren’s fist.

His cock twitches in interest as Darren rubs himself against his thigh, continuing to babble, “So fucking gorgeous. So mine.”

Chris lays a palm flat on Darren’s trembling back and then, Darren goes still and breathes out Chris’ name.

Chris thinks he should be frightened of how possessive Darren might be; on the contrary, he feels warm, safe, and maybe even loved.

Chris shudders at the last thought as Darren goes soft against him.

“You okay?” Darren wonders, breaking the silence and brushing Chris’ hair back from his forehead.

Chris closes his eyes for a second and then opens them, meeting Darren’s affectionate gaze with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

 _For now,_ he thinks.

After they clean up, Chris curls up, this time in Darren’s embrace, and wonders how he’ll go back to sleeping alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on a trip to Italy, fresh-outta-high-school Chris meets a handsome American stranger, a college junior named Darren, who changes his life in ways he never thought possible. But can Chris trust these new feelings to last?

Not a drop of alcohol in his system, and his head is already spinning. Chris is in an aisle of a store, with Darren, surrounded by possibly every type of liquor under the sun.

All of this is Darren’s idea of course, saying that Chris needs to experience a “booze run” before another college tradition of “pre-gaming.”

Those terms are almost as foreign as the Italian labels on every bottle he sees.

“Mark Ramazzotti off the list, babe,” Darren says putting the brown liquid in their basket. “It’ll go good with the Amaretto. Oh, and I’m sure Alexandra has some Orange Bitters in stock we can snag.”

“Are you and Alexandra, like, BFFs now?” Chris laughs.

Darren pushes their cart to the checkout line and scrunches his nose. “Shut it. She’s amazing.”

With Darren’s arm wrapped around his waist, and a shopping list in his grasp, Chris is kind of thrown by how comfortably domestic this whole situation feels. As the checker rings them up, he pictures them going grocery shopping back in the States, fighting over what brand of soap to buy.

It would be nice, but far from reality – no matter how much Chris wants it to be.

Regardless, in this moment, in a less-than-glamorous store in Rome, with a cart of alcohol and Darren by his side, Chris feels complete.

The feeling only continues on their walk back to the hotel. They are greeted with a very loud, but warm, welcome from Alexandra. She rushes over to them, sprouting out a string of words in Italian giving them a set of air kisses.

 _“Vorrebbe cenare con noi?”_ she asks, eyes wide.

Chris knows enough Italian to know that she is inviting them to dinner, but gratefully, Darren turns down the invitation, mentioning something about breakfast instead. Chris is already skeptical on that based on the amount of alcohol Darren purchased.

Before heading back to his _– their –_ room, Darren uses his charisma and abiding charm to corral the necessary items from their kindly hotel owner for Operation: Club Redo.

**

Years of playing card games with his grandmother and her knitting club are _finally_ paying off as Chris continues to kick Darren’s ass at every card-related drinking game he throws at him. 

Darren is visibly irked after he throws back the last bit of his mixed drink. “Are you a fucking card shark? Have you ever been to Vegas?”

Chris giggles, feeling his third drink of the night already. “What stays in Vegas, happens in Vegas…. that’s the saying, right?”

An alcohol-filled snicker leaves Darren’s mouth. “Something like that, babe.”

Every pet name makes his knees quiver and sends his heart fluttering. Chris can’t take his eyes off of Darren, especially as he prances away from the table and to his suitcase.

“We’re going to switch things up.” Darren spins dramatically, revealing his iPod. “This game is called Power Hour and there’s no fucking way you can beat me at this.”

“And you play this game how?”

“It’s pretty simple, because I have this app thing. Basically whenever the song changes, you take a drink, and for every fifth song, you take a shot.”

Chris winces at the word _shot,_ but tries to hide it. He wants to show Darren that he can hang. “I’m down. Plus, this will give me a chance to judge your music choices.”

Coldplay’s _Viva La Vida_ plays first, and Chris and Darren clink their glasses together before taking drink number one. Goosebumps form on his arm as the cool liquid travels down his throat and a familiar fuzzy feeling returns.

By the fifth song, Chris is singing a little under his breath, licking his lips while he stares at Darren. _“Every time they turn the lights down, just wanna go that extra mile for you…”_

Then, he trails off and wonders, “Wait, you don’t strike me as a Britney Spears fan, Dare.”

Darren blinks rapidly at him, blushing a little. “Are you joking? Britney was my first celebrity crush. Seeing her on TRL sent my hormones on fire, like a lot of teenagers of our generation.”

With a bit of liquor firing up his veins, Chris decides to ignore Darren’s admission to being attracted to a girl, which only serves to remind him of last night, with that drunk bitch Tara grinding all over Darren.

Chris kicks that image out of his brain with a light remark about Darren’s pop diva obsession.

“I’m sure you found bald, nervous breakdown-Britney very attractive, then,” Chris teases, finishing his drink.

“Hey, everyone hits a rough patch now and then,” Darren shrugs. “Doesn’t negate how hot she was back in the day.”

After finishing his mixed drink, Chris really wants to take a break from drinking to catch his breath and refocus, but Darren’s face lights up when he notices something.

“Oh! This is the shot song,” Darren takes the bottle of brown liquor and pours it into the small hotel cups. “Do you need a chaser?”

Chris almost asks what a chaser is, but doesn’t want to appear any more inexperienced than he already is. He shakes his head, his face twisting once he downs the burning alcohol.

“Yuck, that is disgusting.”

Darren laughs softly. “A couple more of those, and you’ll be dancing on tables.”

“That’s doubtful, no matter how much of that devil juice you make me drink.” Chris tries to shake off the effects of the shot. “So, where are we going tonight?”

“Well, I want to completely avoid what happened last time so I’m thinking we go to this gay bar called Garbo. It’s more intimate. No loud music, and dancing is optional, even though you do owe me a dance.”

Chris smiles at the idea because all he really wants is to have fun with Darren, without any girls throwing themselves at him.

Maybe it’s the booze, or the fact that Darren is looking at him like he’s a dessert, but Chris has never felt more confident in his own skin. He wants to explore every possibility tonight, including crossing over to the next, and probably final, step in his physical relationship with Darren, letting him in completely.

“I’ve never been to a gay bar before. There you go, marking another thing off my list.”

“I live to please,” Darren winks, and Chris longs for the man sitting across from him so much more.

Chris stretches over the small space between them and presses their lips together, suddenly not minding the bittersweet licorice flavor one bit.

Chris pulls back with a smile. “Well, then, what are you waiting for?”

**

Chris has to practically drag Darren away from the room when Darren climbs into his lap to continue what Chris so chastely started.

Or maybe not so chastely.

Chris reminds Darren, and himself, that it’s a night for second chances, and they’ll have plenty of alone time later, after a nice night out at a place that is hopefully more his speed than the last one.

The interior of the bar is rustic-looking, but in an upscale, modern way, with brick-lined walls and exposed wooden beams overhead. There’s a dance floor with a tiny stage in the corner, but there isn’t a DJ or club music drowning out the sounds of chattering patrons.

Here, Chris feels more like he can breathe.

“Darren, this place is amazing. How did you find it?”

Darren squeezes Chris’ hand and smiles. “I thought you might like it. I heard about it from some friends, but I’ve been waiting for the right occasion to come here.”

“You mean, like, a date?”

“Exactly like a date. A special one,” Darren says, pecking Chris’ cheek.

Chris sighs happily as they take a seat and scan their menus. “So, what should we drink?”

“Wine’s good, yeah? Maybe you’re more educated on that now, thanks to me.” Darren grins. “Let’s test your knowledge. Which one sounds good to you?”

Chris glances up from the list of beverages. “Trick question. Depends on what we’re eating.”

Ahh. Ever the observant one, my dear Christopher.”

His heart skips in his chest as he thinks of dinners out with Darren, sharing a bottle of wine and stealing bites of each other’s food. Except that’s a fantasy, however real the possibility seems with a contemplative Darren sitting right across from him.

“You know what you want, babe?” Darren questions when he looks up at Chris.

“Yeah, I do. How about we split a bottle of Prosecco, and I’ll have whatever fish dish sounds the most appealing?”

“Big fucking spender, huh?”

“I thought this was _your_ treat. You’re the one who wanted the do-over.”

“Point taken.”

Darren’s foot brushes Chris’ ankle under the table in an echo of their first meal together, except this time, Chris understands Darren’s intentions and Chris grins at him.

Darren grins back. “What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about how much you’ve surprised me.”

The waiter shows up then, breaking the moment by asking them what they want.

While Darren tells him the order, and helps him pronounce his own, Chris notices the waiter’s curious gaze, not on them as a couple, or on Darren, but rather on Chris himself.

Chris dismisses him with a _“grazie,”_ and a questioning look of his own.

Darren grits his teeth and takes a swig from the glass of water set before him. “We should dance while we’re waiting.”

“To what music, Dare?”

“We can always make some. C’mon.”

Darren grabs Chris’ hand and brings him to the dance floor, and as if on cue, a woman takes the stage and starts to sing what sounds like an Italian ballad.

Darren pulls him close and whispers in his ear. “That dude was totally checking you out, y’know.”

“Huh?”

“Our waiter. He totally wants you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Darren returns with a hint of anger in his voice, his fingers digging into Chris’ back.

Chris winces.

“Sorry,” Darren says. “I just--I can’t stand it. I mean, it’s cool that someone else realizes how cute you are, but-- _God.”_

Chris raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh, so it’s okay for people to realize how cute _you_ are, but not me?”

“You know I didn’t mean it that way, Chris.”

“Maybe I should give you a taste of your own medicine,” Chris tells him playfully.

“But, the way he was looking at you. You don’t get it.”

“Uh, yeah, I think I do get it,” Chris bites back, boldly leaning into the curve of Darren’s neck. “Now you know what I’ve been putting up with almost every time we’ve been out together.”

Darren sighs. “I guess I deserved that. I already said I was sorry. I really, _really_ don’t wanna fight with you again, babe.”

“Me neither. He was really making eyes at me, though? Are you sure?”

“‘Course I’m sure.”

Chris feels Darren’s heartbeat quickening when he rests his ear there.

“If it bothers you that much, Dare, I won’t do anything. I was only teasing.”

However, Chris faintly considers testing out Darren’s observation. It would be the first time that anyone, other than Darren, stares at him with a feeling of want rather than disdain.

It’s kind of empowering.

Maybe, if he makes Darren jealous enough, it’ll work to his advantage.

He can get Darren to take him home and be with him, the way he’s been craving, especially since last night.

“Darren?” Chris mumbles into his chest.

“What?” Darren’s lips brush the top of Chris’ head. 

Chris pulls back to be heard. “Can we sit? Our food’s probably almost ready.”

Darren pouts at him. “But I like dancing with you.”

“Maybe there will be better music after dinner, and you can show me your moves from last night. I’ll use my hips this time. Put your lessons to good use, yeah?”

Darren looks at him, warm, hazel eyes growing darker. “Suddenly, I’m not that hungry.”

“Dinner’s waiting, and wine, don’t forget.”

“Fine, but I’m trying some of what you got. I’ll end up tasting it on you later, anyway,” Darren whispers hotly against Chris’ ear before leading him back to their table.

Chris stares after him, hoping his plan will be effective, seeing as Darren’s already halfway to where Chris wants him.

They take their seats and the waiter suddenly appears, uncorking the wine bottle and grabbing Chris’ glass first.

The waiter smiles at Chris as he pours the wine and Chris returns it with a smile of his own.

He then winks and says in a low voice, _“Ciao, bello.”_

Chris’ cheeks flush.

Maybe Darren’s right, because the waiter is still staring, continuing on in Italian as he sets his glass down and picks up Darren’s.

“What did he say?” Chris asks Darren.

“He said he’ll be happy to serve you,” Darren replies in slight annoyance.

 _“Grazie,”_ Chris says politely to the waiter, who Chris notices is young and kind of attractive.

 _“Di niente, bello,”_ the waiter tells him.

Darren takes a long swig from his wine glass once it’s offered.

The waiter’s stormy dark eyes flicker up and down Chris’ face for a moment, until he spins on his heel and walks away.

 _“Really?”_ Darren grunts. “You know what he meant when he said _‘serve you,’_ right?”

“I know what a double entendre is, Darren. I’m young, but I’m not dumb. I’m just having a little fun.”

“Just don’t have too much fun tonight. Be careful,” Darren mutters cryptically.

Chris can tell he’s getting angry, and as the tingly drunk feeling circulates throughout his body, he can’t help but find it sexy.

However, by the time they’re done with dinner, Darren seems even more annoyed, fidgeting on the edge of his seat whenever Benito, the waiter, interrupts the conversation with trivial questions, or simply to ask Chris if he needs anything.

Chris finishes off the bottle of wine, just in time for the atmosphere of the place to shift to a more lively, yet casual vibe. The once quiet, intimate room is now buzzing with multiple conversations and light music. At this point, and at this level of drunkenness, Chris is literally bouncing in his seat to the music, surveying the crowd.

His first gay bar experience is not at all what he expects.

No drag queens.

No orgies.

Just him and Darren sitting cozy in a booth, fingers interweaved.

“You’re lucky I picked this place,” Darren says, drinking the rest of his glass of wine. “The first gay bar I went to back home, it was drag queen bingo night. I remember sitting next to drag queens Cher and Donna Summer as they argued over who had the winning board first.”

“Who won?”

“Cher, of course.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat stops Chris from replying.

_“Più vino?”_

Chris beams at Benito. “Yes, more wine – I mean, _sì, più vino.”_

 _“Tutto per te,”_ he says it with a slight twinkle in his brown eyes that Chris soaks in.

This guy really _is_ into him. How is that possible?

“What did he –?”

“He said, ‘Anything for you,’” Darren cuts him off in a mocking tone and then rolls his eyes.

Darren is scowling now, and his glare darkens in a way Chris has never seen before. He wants to burst at how his plan is coming together, and at how riled up Darren is going to be once he gets him home.

But until then...

“Oh, that was so nice of him. He really has been taking care of us since we’ve been here.” Chris is glad those acting classes are finally paying off because he _really_ has Darren fooled.

“I’m gonna, uh, go to the bathroom,” Darren gets up in a rush. “Don’t go anywhere.”

When Darren is out of eyesight, Chris does a mini-happy dance at how wonderful the night is going. It’s going so much better than when Tara tried to fucking kiss Darren’s face off. They had a nice meal, a little dance, and Chris is delightfully drunk.

Unlike their first night together, Chris won’t be passing out because of too much wine. He hopes to be falling asleep after being _under_ Darren for a few hours.

He’s licking his lips at the thought when Benito comes back to the table with another bottle of wine.

 _“È il tuo ragazzo,”_ he pauses, and then looks like he’s trying to complete a geometry problem in his head. “Your boyfriend goodbye? Sorry, English no, uh, no too good.”

Chris grins when he sees Darren, now at the bar with a shot glass in hand, staring at their table. So, in a very calculating move, he leans in a little closer to Benito and purposely places his hand flat on the table, extremely close to his, but not touching.

“Your English is fine,” Chris says, smiling, all teeth and confident.

Darren’s at their table in a flash.

“C’mon, dance with me, babe," Darren tells him, eyes darting between Chris and the waiter.

“Eh, I think I want another drink.”

“Alright. Fine.” Darren shrugs and sits back down as Chris orders another glass of wine for himself.

Even through his slight drunkenness, Chris can tell that Darren is far from fine, tapping his foot on the floor and slumping in his seat.

“Darren, what’s a-matter?”

“Oh, nothing. I told you it’s fine.”

Chris accepts his answer, because he doesn’t want to push Darren into another argument. “Hmm, okay.”

Chris slides his hand across the table in offering.

Darren takes it, but he sighs heavily. “Don’t drink too much, alright?”

“I know,” Chris smiles. “I have plans.”

Darren’s face brightens at that. “Plans, huh?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Well, don’t be all cryptic. Spill,” Darren prods, nudging Chris’ foot.

“Nope,” Chris shakes his head. “’s a surprise.”

“A good one, I hope.”

“Oh, a very good one. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Huh. Can’t wait, then.”

Chris notices Darren’s eyes sparkling in the dim lighting, causing Chris’ stomach tighten in that familiar way it does around Darren.

“Me neither,” Chris answers, wanting this night to end as perfectly as he imagines it might.

Benito returns with a fresh glass of wine.

“I think I’m up for that dance now,” Chris says with a suggestive lilt to his voice after quickly dismissing the waiter.

“Okay. Cool. Just in time to get a good spot,” he replies, dragging Chris to the dance floor, once Chris downs a huge sip of his drink.

“Oh, yeah. It’s getting pretty busy now.”

“Mmm,” Darren murmurs, holding Chris close through the mid-tempo song.

“We’re not slow dancing, are we? Because this song is, like, not slow, Dare.”

“Don’t care. Jus’ like holding you.” Darren grins lazily, one hand on the small of Chris’ back, the other laced with one of Chris’.

“Oh,” Chris gulps.

Darren’s fingers ghost over Chris’ spine. “Yup.”

They sway together until the song blends into another, and a quiet voice bursts their bubble of intimacy.

_“Mi scusi, posso ballare con te?”_

They look over at a young man, who has curly brown hair, more tamed than Darren’s though.

Chris turns to Darren again. “What’s he --?”

Darren bites the inside of his cheek when he answers, “He wants to dance with you. Told you other people are finally recognizing your hotness.”

Chris blushes, turning back to the other man.

He doesn’t want to leave Darren’s side, but the whole jealousy thing seems to be working so far.

 _“Si,”_ Chris finally responds, slipping out of Darren’s grasp.

“Have fun,” Darren grits out, and instead of sitting at their table, he strides over to the bar.

Chris watches Darren take a shot, but focuses back on his dance partner.

_“Che l’uomo, tu ragazzo, bello?”_

Chris furrows his brow, but recognizes the word _ragazzo_ from his earlier conversation with Benito, and thinks it means boyfriend, so he answers the best he can. “Oh, um. _Forse? Mi dispiace. Mi Italiano, no bueno. Americano._ He is, too. _Parli inglese?”_

“For you, I learn better,” the man whispers in his ear. _“Il tuo nome? Voglio dire,_ name?”

“My name?” Chris clears his throat and tells him, attempting to ask the same, though with a slight slur to his speech.

He vaguely registers the man speaking, but for some reason, he sneaks a peek at Darren, who looks like he might be sulking now.

Chris returns his gaze back to the man, who appears hopeful and expectant.

“More dance?” he wonders in a thick Italian accent as the song changes.

“No. I--No. _Grazie._ My, um, _mio--”_ he struggles at what to call Darren, and settles on tilting his head in the direction of the bar, “Darren. I need to get back.”

The man’s face changes to disappointment when Chris lets him go.

 _“Mi dispiace. Ciao,”_ Chris tells him in a rush, and then meets Darren at the bar, just in time to watch him take another shot.

“Oh, hey! How nice of you to join me, Christopher. Would you like a shot?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think you need any more, either.”

“I can hold my liquor just fine, babe. Been a lot more drunk than this. Trust me. C’mon, do a shot with me.”

Chris rests a hand on the bar top, his head suddenly feeling a little fuzzier. “I can’t. Don’t wanna mess anything up.”

“I see.” Darren quickly drinks the shot placed in front of him, and continues. “How was your dance?”

“Fine, I guess. He called me _bello.”_

Darren sighs yet again. _“Bello._ ‘Course he did, ‘cause you are. He seemed pretty cozy with you there.”

“Yeah, I guess. He was kinda handsome, too.”

“Oh, really? Was he now?”

“Maybe. I mean, foreign guys are always hot.”

“Oh, so now he’s hot?”

Chris tries to get closer to say something to the effect of _‘not as hot as you,’_ but Darren shrinks away.

“It’s the accent, Dare. Has to be,” Chris attempts to explain, but Darren doesn’t reply, and orders yet another shot.

After a long moment of silence, save for the clink of a shot glass placed in front of Darren, Chris finally wonders out loud.

“What’s your problem? Other people are giving me attention and it’s not you?”

Darren studies Chris’ face, and answers quietly, “Honestly? Yes. Sorry, I’m being a jerk. I have no right--”

“No, you don’t,” Chris reminds him sharply. “You’ve barely known me a week.”

Then, Chris thinks of mentioning how he wishes it could be more than just this week, and that they should find a way to see each other again.

But he doesn’t, because Darren steps closer, suddenly interrupting Chris’ thoughts with, “I didn’t think that made a difference when you cared about someone.”

Chris pauses momentarily to soak in that statement, struck with the earnest tone of Darren’s words, but then he remembers that girl hanging all over Darren the previous night.

“So that means I can’t even dance with another guy?” Chris snaps. “You were a lot closer with _Tara_ than I was with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome tonight.”

“What the hell? Why are you yelling at me? Shouldn’t _I_ be the one fucking pissed off?”

Chris folds his arms against his chest in annoyance. “God, you’re such a hypocrite. I thought the point of you being here was to make sure I had a good frickin’ time, not to piss me off.”

Darren’s eyes widen. “So this is all about you, isn’t it? I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Popular, not every single _fucking_ thing we do has to revolve around you.”

He waits for Darren to come back with another harsh remark, or maybe even a wisecrack, but he just stands there with his lip sticking out like a toddler who isn’t getting his way.

“What? Suddenly, you have nothing to say?”

“Last night was different, Chris. I was trying to--”

“Save it, because this is almost exactly the same fight, except you’re not getting anything out of it, so, naturally you’re hurt.”

“Exactly, because I’m--y’know what? Never mind.” He swallows and turns back toward the bar, slamming his money down and calling the bartender over.

Darren says something to him in Italian, and pulls out another wad of cash.

Then, he faces Chris again. “It’s my turn to make the dramatic exit, right? Save you the trouble.”

“Dare, wait,” he says, but Darren rushes out through the crowd.

Chris catches up to him outside. “Tonight was supposed to--I didn’t--”

Chris sees Darren’s mouth twitch before he says, “I know it would’ve gone a lot _better_ if you were flirting with me all night instead of that dude, and not accepting some weird stranger’s request to cut in on our dance.”

“I was not flirting with that guy, Darren.” Chris tries keeping up as Darren practically sprints toward the metro. _“He_ was flirting with _me._ Why are you incapable of understanding that? And you were a stranger, too, before--”

“I know what I saw. You weren’t exactly discouraging either of them,” Darren shoots back.

Chris feels his face transform into a beet red color, but he refuses to back down.

“I didn’t know you were going to be such a selfish asshole, yet again.”

“Maybe, there’s a reason I was being such a selfish asshole, Chris.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Because I don’t--”

Darren stops in the middle of the sidewalk, out of breath, letting Chris catch up.

They face each other, and Chris searches Darren’s expression, but, he looks down so Chris can no longer read him.

“For the love of God, Chris, I’m fucking falling for you, don’t you see that?” Darren’s eyes glimmer in the street lamp when he finally looks back up. “I just--I’m falling in-- _fuck,_ I can’t do this.”

Chris is reeling.

_He’s falling in love?_

He didn’t actually say it, and he’s drunk -- they both are.

It means nothing.

Then, a thousand flashbacks dance through his head: _Darren_ approaching him on the train, _Darren_ choosing to get off the train with him, _Darren_ looking after him that first drunken night, and more recently, Darren’s intense jealousy at dinner.

Could it be love?

Chris feels his heart flying into his throat, and his stomach twisting in knots while he stares at his feet, dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Darren chokes out finally. It sounds like he’s sobbing a little, but Chris can’t bear to look. “I had to get it out, and I know you probably don’t feel the same. Like you said earlier, I’ve barely known you a week.”

The words _“it doesn’t matter how long”_ run through Chris’ brain, but he can’t express them aloud.

Darren’s confession seems so absolutely insane that a snicker escapes Chris’ mouth instead.

Things like this just never happen to Chris.

“Oh, so now I’m a fucking comedian?”

Chris is compelled to look up now, and the expression of the man before him makes him queasy.

The wetness on Darren’s cheeks is apparent, and he looks so utterly heartbroken.

Chris really wants to scoop him into his arms and kiss it all away.

Except, he can’t feel his feet, and he opens his mouth to speak, but like before, no words come out. He turns red again, and stares at the ground.

He’ll figure out what to say eventually, he thinks.

However, before he’s given the chance, he hears a wry chuckle and watches Darren shuffle away, while he’s frozen in place, wondering how yet another night could go so wrong.

**

Chris lets Darren go, without him, figuring he should probably prepare for their inevitable separation anyway, but he desperately wishes he could tell him that he feels the same, that he doesn’t want to waste what little time they might have left with this rift between them.

Maybe some space is good, at least for an hour or two.

After all, they’ve spent almost every waking (and sleeping) moment of the last three days together.

So, Chris paces outside the bar and waits. Then, he waits some more and feels like throwing up.

He hurt Darren horribly; now _he’s_ hurting, too, and for no good reason.

If he just expressed what he wanted from Darren in the beginning, maybe he would be here with Darren, and they would be stumbling out together, drunkenly groping each other, and maybe on their way to more than that.

Instead, he’s on the streets of Rome, by himself, and Darren is back at Chris’ room, most likely passing out.

Chris sighs and heads to the train station, making his way back to the hotel, the partygoers wandering the streets reminding him of how lonely he feels in this moment.

He walks through the lobby, where Alexandra shoots him a sympathetic look from behind the desk.

Once inside the room, he sits in a chair and kicks off his shoes. Then, he takes off his jeans and t-shirt, throwing them on the floor.

Rather than rifling through his suitcase and disturbing a sleeping Darren, he blindly searches in the dark and pulls out what’s laying on top, Darren’s shirt.

It still smells like him.

Chris doesn’t bother with pants, too tired as he forces himself to lay beside Darren without touching him.

Chris curls up on his side, away from Darren, and shakily exhales when there’s a light brush of fingertips to the back of Chris’ neck, the room otherwise remaining silent.

Chris is tempted to say something, but he lets it go and swallows, afraid to even move and disturb whatever peace the darkness of the room has brought.

Hopefully they’ll sort everything out in the morning, if Darren sticks around.

**

Chris wakes up suddenly, with a throbbing head. The bright morning light burns his eyes when he finally blinks them open, and then, his heart almost stops.

He’s facing a very peaceful-looking Darren, who’s lying on his side, so beautiful, and so untouchable.

He takes a moment to admire the small bump on the bridge of Darren’s nose, his long eyelashes, and the way his hair flops ungracefully over his forehead.

Then, his heart stutters as he replays the night before: the drinking games, the waiter, the wine, the dance and then the huge blowout. He swallows uncomfortably with a dry mouth. No matter how much he wants to wake Darren up and apologize, he still doesn’t know what to say.

Chris struggles to his feet to go take a shower and get dressed. Once he’s ready, Chris leaves in search of food, without waking Darren.

He shuffles out to the lobby and finds Connor, alone at a table in the dining area, glasses on the bridge of his nose and pen in his hand, working on the morning crossword puzzle.

“Chris! _Buongiorno!”_ Connor looks up with a smile, but then his brow furrows. “Where’s Darren?”

“I let him sleep. Rough night.”

“Oh,” Connor clears his throat. “I, uh--I’ll let you get back to him, then.”

“No,” Chris blushes. “Not like that. We, um, we may have had a bit of a scuffle last night.”

“Hmm, I thought I saw Darren come back alone, but I didn’t want to pry. ‘S not my business.”

“Okay. I’ll let you finish your puzzle. I’ll just--”

“No, no. ‘S fine. Sit, me boy.”

Chris takes a seat opposite Connor.

“You met him here, in Italy?”

Chris grins in memory of Darren’s warm smile and bright eyes. “On a train, yeah. Only a few days ago, actually.”

“I’ve seen him looking at you, y’know. Doesn’t seem like a few days. He’s rather taken with you.”

Chris looks away shyly. “I know. He told me last night.”

“Oh? Why the quarrel, then, son?”

Chris isn’t sure that he should reveal so much to a man he knows even less about than Darren, but someone to talk to might help.

“I’m only here a few more days, and so is he, as far as I know. We’re not really going back to the same place, so I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“There are modern inventions, such as the telephone, Chris, and computers, yes?”

“I know, but, it won’t be like it is now. We’d try to keep in touch, but, he has a whole other life, and I--I’m not a part of that.”

“Do you want to be?”

Chris opens his mouth to speak, but Connor starts again.

“Do you want to know how I ended up here, running this small hotel?”

Chris gives him a small nod.

“I was here on holiday, not too much older than you. A stunning young woman was sat on the steps of this very place, and I had to talk to her. She grew up here and had to show me _‘the real Rome.’_ D’ya know who that was?”

Chris shakes his head.

“My dearest Alexandra. Barely spoke a word of English then, and my Italian was quite shoddy, as well, but as we spent the day together, she taught me, and I taught her. I switched hotels that night. Turned out, her parents owned the place. Made a quick run home to pack up, and haven’t left since. We eventually married, and when they passed, we inherited ownership.”

Chris’ eyes widen. “Wait, you just packed up your whole life and moved across half a continent for someone you didn’t even know?”

“Yes. I’m not telling you that every single moment has been wonderful all these years, but I don’t regret it.”

“But, my situation isn’t the same. I don’t know anything about his life back home.”

Chris doesn’t even know where home is for Darren.

“Oh, ‘s not so different, Christopher. If you truly want to know these things, why don’t you ask him?”

Chris looks down in consideration. “It might be too late.”

“Is he still here?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“Well, then, it’s not too late. Go, talk to him.”

Chris stands up, nearly tripping over his chair when Connor speaks again.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“You can’t pack away your feelings after a day, or a week. If they’re strong enough, those pesky buggers’ll claw their way out, y’hear?”

Chris nods solemnly and gulps, Connor’s words ringing in his head as he finds his way back to his room, and back to Darren.

**

Chris opens the door to see Darren, dressed and packing up his stuff.

“I was an idiot last night,” Chris says in lieu of a greeting.

“No shit. I was, too, for thinking you might actually care about me and not just what I could give you.”

“I was drunk. I wasn’t thinking. I couldn’t--I didn’t know what to say.”

“So you say nothing? Don’t worry, I got the message loud and clear.” Darren walks over to Chris’ side of the bed. “I’m taking my shirt back, by the way.”

“I never--I know I didn’t handle it the best way, but you’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, not for much longer. I’ll be out of your way, so you’re free to flirt with any fucking guy you please.”

Chris cautiously strides over to where Darren is standing. “Okay, I screwed up, royally, but I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I never wanted any of that to happen, because, honestly, I’ve felt the same way, maybe right from the start.”

Darren raises an eyebrow, his stolen shirt in hand. “From the start?”

“Yeah, and I thought it was stupid, because--”

“It’s not stupid. What was stupid was thinking you could get me into your pants by flirting with another guy. You already had me, Chris. You still do.”

“Then, why do you want to leave?”

“Because, I don’t wanna play games anymore. You get pissed every time I talk to anyone remotely resembling a chick, and when I assure you that I’m not trying to be a dick, you turn around and deliberately bait me. You can’t do that shit, Chris.”

“I wasn’t trying to bait you. Well, I was, but I have an explanation for that.”

He throws his shirt back down onto the mattress. “It better be a damn good one.”

“I--” Chris steps a little closer and forces himself to look Darren in the eyes. “I wanted to be with you. I mean, I wanted to have sex with you.”

Darren searches his face. “And you couldn’t just tell me that?”

“I thought you got the hint. But then I got carried away, with the flirting, and the dancing--I wanted you to see that I could handle myself, that I’m not some delicate flower that you have to be gentle with. I want you just as much as you want me.”

“Chris, I _do_ want you. I want you so much, it’s ridiculous, and I don’t wanna sound like some fucking sex education manual, but sex changes you. It’ll change _us,_ and what we have right now is amazing. I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, just because we don’t have a lot of time.”

“You wouldn’t be pressuring me. You’d be giving me what I want.”

Chris tentatively reaches for Darren’s hand, and Darren accepts it.

Romance is something Chris never thought could exist for him in this world before Darren, and maybe Connor’s right.

This could work out.

“But what if there _was_ more time?” Chris asks.

“What?”

“What if we meet again somewhere? Like, six months from now.”

Darren chuckles, kissing Chris’ hand. “And I thought _I_ was fucking insane.”

Chris frowns and his head swims with rejection. “What? I’m being serious. Don’t you want to see me again?”

He flinches at the inkling that he’d push Darren away so much that those sentiments of love have vanished.

“Of course I do. It’s just – it’s in the middle of my last semester of school.”

Chris sighs, and comes up with a new idea.

“How about after you graduate, then, next May? We’ll iron out the details before we have to go back home. _Separate_ homes.”

Darren chuckles and mouth twitches with hilarity. “You’re serious about this?”

“Yes, of course I am. Maybe we can find a way for this to work.”

They stand in silence for a minute or two, and the longer Darren fixes him with an unreadable expression, the more Chris thinks it’s time to pack up his feelings and go home.

Then, Darren’s eyes widen with surprise, and Chris sees a glimmer of excitement.

“Deal. I’ll be counting down the days. I’ll get a special calendar and everything.”

“So, you’re not going to leave now, right?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Chris allows himself to feel a modicum of excitement when Darren’s hand finds it home against Chris’ cheek and he brings Chris in for a kiss.

“Promise not to screw up our last twenty-four hours in Italy?” Darren murmurs when they part. “Er, twenty-two, maybe?”

“Only if we stop talking about who screwed up and we start talking about who’s screwing who.” Chris’ face turns scarlet. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. That was terrible.”

“No, it was adorable, babe,” Darren chuckles, his head falling to Chris’ shoulder. “In all seriousness, discussing some of the logistics wouldn’t be a bad idea, actually.”

“The way we’ve been going is, um, fine with me,” Chris stutters out as Darren’s lips mark a familiar path up Chris’ neck.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmm. If this is how we make up, maybe I should mess up again. Or is it your turn next time? I can’t remember.”

“How about,” Darren brushes his lips across Chris’ jaw, “We stop talking about who’s a bigger fuckup, and maybe we can do something better?”

Chris is suddenly pushed onto the bed, seated, with a lap full of Darren.

“I like where this is going,” Chris answers.

“Good, because it’ll be a warmup for tonight.”

Then, Chris is flat on his back, his head spinning with the possibilities and his heart filling with nothing but Darren.

**

The queen size bed in their cozy hotel room remains their sanctuary. Here, with Darren wrapped in his arms, Chris feels at peace. In their underwear, still beaming with afterglow, they’re able to just be together without distractions.

Chris traces his name on Darren’s bare shoulder as the man next to him grins his boyish, dazzling smile while talking about his theatre troupe back home. Listening to his wild college stories, Chris wants nothing more than to be part of his world.

Better than any college experience he’s going to have.

If he could snap his fingers and a fairy godmother could materialize that life with Darren, he would make her give it to him in a heartbeat.

As darkness creeps in, Chris clutches Darren a little tighter, the clock next to the bed ticking out the annoying reminder that their time together is shriveling.

“Chris, what are you gonna do when you get back home?”

“I start college next month, and I’m planning on majoring in English,” Chris answers, almost forgetting he has to start a new stage of his life soon.

“Of course you are,” Darren chuckles. “Are you excited? College is fucking awesome.”

Chris doesn’t have the same enthusiasm as Darren when it come to the next four years he’ll have to spend fighting his way through college.

“Guess I’m excited to move out of my parents’ house and stay in the dorms. That’s about it.”

Darren glances up at him in dismay. “I hope college is better for you, Chris. It has to be. You gotta let people see how amazing you are.”

After five days, Chris is getting used to Darren singing his praises, so he takes the compliment and places a chaste kiss on his lips.

“No matter how much I don’t want to leave this bed, we should probably eat something soon.”

Darren pulls away, and Chris groans at the loss of contact. Darren shuts him up with a quick kiss before saying, “We should take Alexandra and Connor up on their dinner offer. They’ve been so sweet to us these last few days.”

“Yeah, I could use a low-key night,” Chris mumbles, sitting up himself and feeling loose-limbed and wonderful.

Chris’ emotions threaten to overwhelm him, but then he thinks back to Connor’s advice about not packing away his feelings.

Now Chris realizes exactly what he meant by that because he’d never felt so comfortable and secure laying everything, including his heart, out there for Darren to see.

**

Darren and Chris get ready together, sneaking glances and kisses before they head out to the restaurant across the street, also owned by Alexandra and Connor.

Naturally, the couple refuses to let either of them pay for dinner, but are more than willing to dish out worldly advice about love, life, and Italian food.

Chris has never laughed so much, and Darren is basically in stitches, too, watching them bicker in both Italian and English, with a little Irish slang thrown in here and there.

The breadsticks and wine are endless, and their older kids, who pretty much run the place, wander around them throughout the dinner, stopping every so often to briefly join in the chat; it seems that Darren and Chris are the only ones in the room who aren’t family.

Chris has never felt more at home.

“You want to get another bottle, babe?” Darren whispers to Chris, while Alexandra and Connor speak to a friend at the table next to them.

The four of them have already gone through three bottles during dinner, Chris keeping track of the number of glasses Darren has been drinking and trying to keep up. Already three glasses in, Chris isn’t sure if his alcohol tolerance has increased over the past few days or what, but he feels perfectly normal.

“Sure, why not?”

Darren rushes an unexpected kiss before signaling down their waiter, and Chris fights against the blush rising on his cheeks.

He’s still not used to the fact that Darren _wants_ to touch him or kiss him, despite how natural it’s become.

Darren orders another bottle of some white wine from their waiter, who just so happens to be Connor and Alexandra’s great-grandson.

Of course, Darren can’t help joking with Chris about flirting with this waiter.

“Don’t be a lush tonight, darling.” Darren winks at him, pouring Chris a glass.

“Fine. If you don’t let me drink too much, who knows what you’ll get me to do with you?” he suggestively smiles, working on this whole flirting _effectively_ game.

Darren laughs before setting his chin on his hands and grinning over at Chris. “Tonight’s going good so far, right? On my end, this has been one of my best days since I’ve been here.”

Chris almost gives away that this has been one of the best days of his entire life.

“Well, it hasn’t been too bad.”

Darren stares at him for a little while before splintering into an oversized laugh, his cheeks dimpling. Chris’ own grin broadens and he can finally feel that recognizable tipsy feeling returning.

 _“Celia! Celia! Cantare una canzone!”_ Alexandra bounces in her seat, buzzing with excitement.

She obviously has let the wine in her system do its job.

Chris is about to ask what she says, when he sees a little girl with Connor’s nose heading to a piano at the front of the restaurant.

“Oh, looks like someone is taking your spotlight, Dare.”

Darren purses his lips and looks away, his cheeks blushing. “Shut up. You love it when I sing.”

Glad that their teasing dynamic has returned after the tension of the last two nights, Chris scoots his chair closer to Darren and leans over, resting his head against his chest. Darren takes the cue, draping his arm over the back of Chris’ chair and running his fingers up and down his shoulder.

As soon as the first few notes from the piano ring out, Darren nearly leaps up, tossing Chris off of him.

“Oh my god, do you know what song this is?”

Chris laughs at his predictability. “You would freak out over ‘Bella Notte.’ Don’t ask me to recreate the _Lady and the Tramp_ spaghetti scene. I won’t do it.”

“C’mon, baby. We _have_ to. It’s like an Italian tradition.”

Chris shakes his head, then Darren gives him the most heart-wrenching look, his bright hazel eyes widening like a puppy begging for a treat.

“You are a child. Are you even old enough to drink?”

“Sorry for trying to be romantic,” Darren teases back.

It may be the fuzzy tingle from the wine or the nostalgia factor from the song, but Chris leans over, breath hot on Darren’s ear and quietly sings, _“Oh, this is a night, and the heavens are right on this lovely bella notte.”_

His face flushes as he hears Darren’s breath hitch. He slowly pulls away, biting his lip, terrified that Darren, the freakishly talented music major, will think he sounds horrible.

“That was…” Darren begins, shutting his eyes and sighing as if to find the right ways to let Chris down gently. “Spectacular.”

“Thank you,” Chris mumbles, trying to bring his pounding heart beat under control.

“Why haven’t you –? Just, c’mere.”

Darren places both his hands on either side of Chris’ face and slams their lips together.

His lips curl in a small, secret smile, and Chris relaxes, his arms wrapping around his neck. Before Darren’s tongue can work its magic, Chris plucks himself away, realizing they’re not alone at the table.

He turns his head to find the glowing couple across from them engulfed in their own conversation, staring at each other like no one else is in the room.

Chris wonders if that’s the look Connor says Darren gives him.

As an experiment, he turns his attention to the man who is currently linking their fingers together on the linen table.

Darren is always on the go, constantly moving, or talking, or in most cases, doing both at the same time. However, now, he’s silent, a light smile gracing his lips as he traces Chris’ knuckles with his other hand.

Letting out a breath he doesn’t even realize he’s holding, Chris chances a smile.

“Thanks for getting off the train with me.”

Chris extends his fingers gradually to skim over Darren’s cheek, gasping strongly when Darren’s eyes shut as he shifts into the touch.

It’s probably the most honest thing Chris has said in the last five days, and Darren’s reaction makes his heart expand.

“My pleasure.” Darren smiles coyly as he leans in, taking his time before he brushes his lips over Chris’. “And yours, I hope.”

Chris shivers and closes his eyes, leaning in again with a more airy kiss.

_“Che bello, Connor.”_

“Let them be, Alexandra. Let them be.”

Darren laughs first, then Chris, who covers his face as it turns red.

 _“Grazie per stasera,”_ Darren says politely, breaking the ice.

Chris adds, “Yes, thank you so much.”

Connor lifts his wine glass up first, and the rest of the table follows. “To life, friends, and _amore.”_

**

Who knew a couple in their seventies could party so damn hard?

It’s a little past closing time and the restaurant is still buzzing, especially after Darren convinces Connor to turn on the jukebox.

Chris is at a table full of Alexandra’s sisters, gossiping about this and that, he’s sure. Somehow it’s more interesting when gossip is in another language. He glances up every now and then, though, to see Darren serenading a group of little girls with his best _Italia_ setlist.

Seeing how he’s so good with kids leads Chris to think of a future that they probably won’t ever have. He won’t admit it, but for the first time since he brought up them meeting again, he wonders if they really should go through with it.

What if Darren meets a girl, or boy for that matter, at home who is less complicated than he? Someone who he doesn’t have to adjust his personality for, someone who won’t fight him every step of the way.

Someone he could see every day if he wanted to.

He’s torn, and these thoughts spinning through his brain, mixed with the wine, are starting to give him a headache.

Chris is about to pull Darren aside to share his new revelations when he sees Connor out of the corner of his eye. He’s surrounded by a group of men, engaging in a conversation, but every few seconds, his eyes shift to their table – to Alexandra.

Chris sees him smile and then return to the existing discussion, but it’s obvious that his focus is elsewhere.

Could he and Darren be like that? 

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels stocky arms wrap around his neck and a wet kiss on the cheek.

“Dance with me, handsome,” Darren murmurs, his voice husky.

It’s an order, not a request that Chris automatically accepts, placing his hand in his. Darren smirks lazily and jerks Chris into his embrace, his arm spiraling around Chris’ waist. Placing his free hand on his shoulder, Chris can smell the wine on Darren’s breath.

A song that Chris kind of knows, but can’t place, starts to play as Darren sways them.

Darren leans into the crook of Chris’s neck, nibbling lightly on his earlobe. Chris feels his skin prickle at the contact.

 _“Come away with me in the night,”_ Darren begins singing softly. “ _Come away with me and I will write you a song.”_

Chris is grateful for their positioning because Darren might make fun of the goofy, love-drunk look on his face as he listens to him sing.

There is just something about his voice. It propels him to the highest degree of happiness every time. It’s like Chris becomes a significant piece of the wonder and magic that surrounds Darren.

_“I want to walk with you on a cloudy day, in fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high. So won’t you try, to come? Come away with me...”_

They glide around the marble floor, swaying in their own little world in a way that allows Chris to foresee them staying like this forever.

Chris looks up and notices the only other people dancing are Connor and Alexandra, beautifully twirling in a waltz of their own. Chris thinks, maybe one day, he and Darren may be comfortable enough to be open and free like the wonderful couple they’ve met on this journey.

But for now, Chris is happy with just swaying.

“You wanna get out of here?” Darren says low in his ear, rubbing his hand over the small of Chris’ back.

“Mmm, but I like dancing with you,” Chris teases in an echo of Darren’s words the previous night.

“Bet you’ll like other stuff even more.”

“I guess I can take that bet, D.”

Darren looks up at him and grins goofily. “Are you warming up to nicknames now, babe?”

“Maybe.”

 _Maybe I’m warming up to you_ , Chris wants to add, but fears it’s far too cheesy and he doesn’t want to ruin this perfect moment.

“Maybe we should go,” Chris continues instead.

**

They excuse themselves and thank their proprietors once again, leaving the lovely old couple to likely wind down their night with family, while Darren and Chris are only getting their own night started.

They cross the street holding hands and exchanging heated gazes, but as soon they lock the door to their room, Darren throws away all restraint and starts kissing Chris’ neck hungrily.

“Missed you last night,” Darren breathes against Chris’ collarbone.

“Me, too. Y’know what they say about absence.”

“Chris, don’t. I don’t want--” Darren chokes out, but then, Chris tilts Darren’s chin up and kisses him softly. 

Darren gasps into it, backing Chris against the door and grabbing his hips so hard that there will probably be finger-shaped bruises tattooing the skin there later.

Chris grips Darren’s waist in return, earning a groan from Darren as they break away, with Darren’s hand wandering beneath Chris’ shirt.

“Bed,” Darren rushes out, resting his forehead against Chris’ before pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, okay.”

The words barely escape his lips and Darren’s laying him down, playing with the hem of Chris’ shirt, and silently asking permission.

Chris meets his gaze and nods.

Darren helps Chris out of his shirt, laying on top of Chris and stroking his cheek. He kisses Chris’ mouth, carefully leaning his weight into it a little more as his kisses grow rougher. Darren grinds down, once, a pleasant warmth spreading through Chris as he feels the vague shape of Darren through their layers of clothing.

Then, Darren’s lips leave Chris’ mouth to ghost over Chris’ jaw and down his neck.

Chris cries out, curling his fingers in Darren's hair as Darren works over the raised scar at the base of Chris’ neck, determined to stop his earlier marks from fading away.

Once Darren is satisfied, he trails down Chris’ chest, stopping briefly to brush his lips over his rapid heartbeat before wrapping his mouth around one of Chris’ nipples, which are surprisingly sensitive.

Darren flicks a thumb over the other nipple, making Chris moan.

“Ugh, Dare.”

Darren only sucks harder and then switches over to where his thumb had been only seconds ago, swirling his tongue around the hardened nub.

“ _Ohh_ ,” Chris whimpers out, as Darren kisses down the middle of Chris’ torso, and mouths at his belly button.

Darren looks up through his lashes and smiles when Chris laughs lightly.

“Dare, that tickles.”

“Yeah?”

Darren kisses there again with a smile, and Chris giggles.

Chris pets Darren’s hair, overcome with how easy this feels.

“Darren, I--” he starts, his heart overflowing with the phrase he wants to spill out, but he can’t.

He shouldn’t, not when this moment is already so perfect.

“What, babe?”

“I-I wanna see you,” Chris says instead.

“I’m right here,” Darren teases.

Chris rolls his eyes. “I mean, your shirt, and--”

“I know what you mean. Can I appreciate the view a little longer, please?”

Chris feels the blush on his face spreading through the rest of his body at Darren’s comment, and at Darren’s lips running along the top of his waistband.

“Fuck. So gorgeous,” Darren babbles against his skin, and then he undoes the fly on Chris’ pants.

“Dare,” Chris warns, gazing down at him, still so astounded that anyone, let alone Darren, could want him like this.

“Alright. Fine,” Darren sighs in mock annoyance. “I suppose it’s necessary.”

Darren smiles and pulls away, tossing his shirt over his head, affording Chris the opportunity to just look.

Darren has sun-kissed skin, and his waist is trim but still somehow carries a bit of softness that hangs over the sides and front of his jeans, perfect for Chris to grab onto or pillow his face against.

There’s also dark hair curling around Darren’s nipples and smattering all over his chest, culminating in a prominent line that trails from his belly button down to his waistband.

Chris didn't think he’d prefer that, but it suits Darren, who’s wild and free, and now hovering over him.

“Way to make a guy feel self-conscious,” Darren interrupts with a smirk.

“Um, you look...good.”

“Just... _good?_?”

Chris gulps and glances away. “Um, hot?”

“Are you sure about that, babe? Hey,” Darren cups his cheek. “Y’know, it’s totally okay to look, and touch.” Darren ghosts his thumb under Chris’ eye. “And kiss.” 

Darren gently grazes his lips over Chris’, and then kisses him deeper.

“We know how to do this part, pretty well, I’d say,” Darren reminds him with a laugh. “Relax. It’s me.”

Chris remembers Darren using almost the exact same words the first night they kissed and instantly melts into their next kiss, confidently slipping his tongue in Darren’s mouth.

This time, Chris wants to make the night last as long as possible because it really is their final opportunity, and it needs to be special.

It needs to be _amazing_.

With Darren already reaching between them, Chris can tell that it will be.

The grip is rough and awkward with Chris’ pants still on, but as Darren’s wrist twists on the upstroke and his thumb swipes at the head of Chris’ cock, it works well enough.

Still, he wonders.

Chris’ hips buck uncontrollably and he breaks away to catch his breath.

“Darren, l-lube?”

“Got it covered, babe,” he assures with a kiss to Chris’ cheek. “Don’t rush me, Speedy,” he laughs again, and mouths at Chris’ neck.

“You, _unhh_ , you’ll never let me live down our first night, will you?”

Darren nips at his neck once more and answers. “No, because it was really,” he starts kissing a path across Chris’ collarbone, “fucking,” down his chest, “hot,” and finally down to where he’s been working Chris over. “Can I take these off you now?”

Chris looks into Darren’s eyes, burning with lust, but still somehow soft and cautious. He simply nods, assisting with shimmying his pants and underwear down his legs until they’re completely off. Now, it’s Darren’s turn to stare, Chris overheating even more as all the blood rushes down to his burgeoning erection. His thighs twitch, fighting the urge to close himself off.

Darren pets at one of his thighs, and then links their fingers together. “Baby, don’t. I wanna see you, too. Bend your knees, okay?”

Chris plants his feet flat on the mattress and follows Darren’s suggestion.

“Fuck, Chris, we’re gonna-- I swear, but first, I wanna try something.”

Darren licks his lips, gaze flickering from Chris’ face to between his legs.

“Wh-what?” Chris asks, squeezing Darren’s hand.

“Another first, for both of us. Lift your legs up, babe.”

He reaches for a pillow behind Chris’ head and places it under his ass.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll stop, okay? But I really, really wanna put my mouth on you.”

Chris’ eyebrows draw together in confusion, but then, the realization hits him, and he responds hesitantly with an, “O-okay,” as Darren settles between his thighs.

“I got you,” Darren assures him, breath hot against his asshole, and then, there’s a wet, shocking press there.

Darren kisses the spot, and then sucks at it as he wraps his right hand over Chris’ cock.

“Oh, ohh, I--fuck,” Chris whispers.

Darren squeezes their joined hands, and under the head of Chris’ cock, all while swirling his tongue around the rim of his asshole.

“Dare, please, I--” Chris begs, his whole body tightening as he tries not to bear down against Darren’s face.

Then, Chris gasps, a slight pressure inside of him for a moment, until it quickly slips out and works around the outside of his rim again.

Another suck, and then, cool air hits Chris down there.

“Chris, I--God,” Darren whispers, nosing at the base of Chris’ cock.

“If you didn’t stop, I--”

“I-I know. Fuck.”

Darren kisses the head of his cock before crawling back up to kiss his mouth.

It tastes musky and a little strange, but kind of hot, knowing that Darren is so willing to have every part of him.

Darren’s jeans scratch against Chris’ bare cock as they grind together, a not-so-delicate reminder that Darren isn’t fully naked yet.

Chris taps against the small of Darren’s back, and thankfully, he takes the hint.

“Mmmph, right,” Darren murmurs. “Got a little distracted for a second there.”

Darren takes a deep breath as he pushes off the bed and heads toward his bag, retrieving a condom and a bottle of lubricant. Chris’ stomach twists as he wonders how and when Darren had time to buy those, and how long he may have had them.

He files that thought away, however, watching Darren toss the items onto the bed and rid himself of the rest of his clothes. Chris knows that his hands, and his mouth, have been all over Darren, but it feels entirely different, being allowed to gaze so unabashedly.

Darren’s cock bounces against his belly as it springs free; it’s thick and flushed, with a vein throbbing on the underside that Chris just wants to lick. He licks his lips in memory of how it tastes, and then he swallows, realizing that soon, he’ll open himself up to Darren even more.

“You’re--” Chris starts.

“Hot?” Darren quirks his brow and crawls on top of Chris.

“Beautiful,” Chris admits shyly.

Darren grins softly, his cock brushing against Chris’ own.

“You’re not so bad yourself there, babe,” Darren returns, bringing their mouths together for a sweet kiss and rolling his hips down.

Chris meets the movement and Darren thrusts against him once more, soon building a rhythm.

It feels great, like the other night, but more, skin catching roughly against skin. With more slickness, Chris thinks he could probably come like this.

But he doesn’t want to.

“Need...stuff,” Chris pants against Darren’s mouth.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Darren blindly gropes around and then, he pulls back, clutching a bottle and flicking the cap open

Darren squeezes the lube out and rubs his fingers, stroking Chris’ knee with his free hand.

“If it hurts, tell me, okay?” Darren advises.

Chris nods. “Just do it.”

At first, Darren circles his rim a few times, and then, he presses inside. Chris winces at the intrusion, but it doesn’t hurt too much; it feels odd, since he’s never tried to penetrate himself before, and when Darren starts to curve his finger, Chris clenches.

“Baby, relax,” Darren tells him quietly, nearly pulling out, and sliding back in.

Chris takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, Darren gently stroking inside him.

“Good,” he hears Darren say, and then, another finger joins the first one, stroking him faster.

Chris squeezes around them greedily, feeling his orgasm building already.

“Darren, please,” Chris whimpers.

“Shh.” Darren continues to move inside him, and kisses the crook of Chris’ knee. “Just a little more, babe.”

Darren pulls out for a moment, Chris whining yet again as Darren adds more lube to his fingers.

Chris feels impossibly full, with Darren adding a third finger this time.

Shit,” Chris curses under his breath, his eyes flying open.

“You look so hot, babe. Taking it like that. Can't wait to, _fuck_ , be inside you,” Darren babbles, his dark eyes drawn to where his fingers work Chris open.

Chris blushes again, fighting against closing his eyes in embarrassment; he needs to see the proof of Darren wanting him so badly.

Then, Darren’s fingers leave him, empty and tightening around nothing. Darren messily wipes his fingers on the sheets, crawling up to kiss his mouth.

“You alright, Chris?”

“Mmm, I will be. Need you.”

“You got me, sweetheart.” Darren sighs, kissing him again, and pulling back to kneel between Chris’ legs.

Darren strokes himself maintaining eye contact with Chris even when he reaches for the condom and rips it open with his teeth. Chris spread his legs a little wider as Darren jerks himself a couple more times after he rolls the condom on, grinning down at Chris.

“C’mon, Dare,” Chris groans, about to grab his own cock, but Darren swats him away.

“Hold on. Lemme do it,” Darren says, pressing the blunt head of his cock inside.

“Oh! _OhmyGod_ ,” Chris cries out.

It hurts a little, even with the preparation, but Chris still wants more.

“You okay?” Darren asks with concern.

“Yeah. I-yeah,” he answers, his eyes welling up. “Keep going.”

Darren searches Chris’ face and then pushes in further, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated inside.

“Fuck. Feels so good, so fucking tight. ‘M gonna move now, babe.”

Chris nods, and Darren slowly pulls out almost all the way, his head catching at the rim. Then, he thrusts back in and grabs Chris’ hips roughly, slowly building a rhythm of in and out, in and out.

Chris mirrors him, rocking his hips back on every push inward and bearing down as Darren pulls back. A string of obscenities bounce around his head at the friction. Chris cannot believe this is happening, and that it feels _this_ good.

“God, Chris,” Darren moans, going in for a sloppy, off-center kiss as Chris digs his fingers into Darren’s back.

Darren wraps his hand around Chris’ cock then, matching every thrust in with a stroke upward and reaching the base as he pulls out.

Darren lifts his head up and stares at Chris with a look of concentration, his eyes a warm gold. Chris blinks up at him as a few loose tears fall. As a tidal wave of emotion hits him, he knows the man above him will always be his, and Chris will always be part of Darren.

His heart is in his mouth as more tears prick his eyes, and with that, all the breath whooshes out of Chris as his toes curl and he spills all over Darren’s fist and his own stomach.

“Yeah, unhh, baby,” Darren grunts, his thrusts becoming more erratic until Chris feels him releasing into the condom and collapsing on top of him.

Although they’re done, Chris wishes he could wrap his legs around Darren’s back and never let go. Instead, Chris lets his hands fall away from Darren and back onto the bed. Darren kisses Chris’ shoulder and pulls out, but doesn’t move off of him. He’s uncharacteristically silent, save for his loud breathing against Chris’ neck.

Chris pets Darren’s head instinctively, earning a kiss on the cheek. Darren reaches between them, taking off the condom and tossing it somewhere on the floor after he ties it. Finally, he rolls off of him, snuggling into Chris’ side.

Chris breaks the silence first.

“Is this the part where I ask if it was good for you?”

Darren laughs, running his fingers through the mess on Chris’ belly.

“Oh, Christopher. How can you be so adorable after I’ve thoroughly fucked you?”

“Who said it was thoroughly?”

Darren quirks an eyebrow and looks up at him.

“I did,” Darren replies, glancing down to his come-covered finger and then lewdly sucking it into his mouth.

Chris feels his cock wanting to spring back to life as he eyes the movement.

“Dare,” he breathes and bites his lip.

Darren is on him in a second, dirtily kissing Chris’ mouth and letting him taste himself.

Then, Darren rests his forehead against Chris’ and asks quietly, “Seriously, how was it?”

“Amazing,” Chris responds without hesitation. “I don’t think I could’ve imagined anything better.”

 _I’m glad it was with you_ , he almost adds.

“Good,” Darren grins, kissing him again. “The feeling’s mutual. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

“Ugh, I don’t think I can move.”

“I’ll help you, babe.” He takes Chris’ hand as they both sit up, Chris more carefully than Darren, and then, they walk over to the bathroom.

Chris leans against the vanity, admiring the view as Darren bends down and turns on the tub faucet.

Darren turns toward him. “This okay? I mean, I know your ass is probably sore, but--”

“It's perfect. I can’t remember the last time I took a bath.”

Darren strides over to him, their bare chests sticking together with drying come. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“But it’s not my first--”

Darren presses a finger to Chris’ lips. “Shh. I was trying to be clever.” Darren’s finger slips down Chris’ chin and then he kisses Chris chastely.

“You’re so beautiful and you don’t even fucking know it,” Darren says against his lips.

Chris sighs happily as Darren turns away to grab a washcloth and turn off the water.

“C’mere,” Darren urges, damp cloth in hand.

Chris listens and Darren wipes down Chris’ stomach and then his cock, gently trailing down to his asshole.

His knees quiver at the touch and Chris forces out a, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby. I have to clean up, too,” Darren sighs, squeezing his hand and leading Chris into the tub. He sits gingerly in the warm, half-filled tub, with Darren across from him.

Darren’s eyes crinkle and his face glows with a bright smile as he rubs the cloth over Chris’ chest again. “Oops. Missed a spot.”

Chris grabs Darren’s wrist. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thanks.”

Chris grins, kissing Darren’s smile.

“This may be totally cheesy, but can I just hold you? At least until we get all pruny,” Darren asks softly, and Chris speculates if he should expect a more cautious Darren from now on.

Chris does as he’s told, leaning against Darren’s chest. Darren places his legs over Chris’, his knees bent. A trembling sensation runs through Chris’ body, feeling so vulnerable and secure at the same time. Darren gets a hold of the hotel body wash and squirts some of it into his hands. Chris is in pure heaven when Darren starts to rub the soap into his neck and shoulders.

Chris grunts, slanting toward his touch. “Hmm, that feels good.”

Darren’s hands flow down his arms, then slink down his chest. Inhaling sharply as Darren’s fingers encircle his nipples.

“I aim to please, babe,” Darren chuckles, and Chris can feel the vibration of it tickling his back.

Darren reaches for a small towel, his hands drifting to Chris’ belly, making his heart race and arousal hum low in his veins. Pouring more bath wash on the towel, Darren washes up and down Chris’ legs. It’s heavenly and Chris dips his head back, soaking up the moment.

“Turn around,” Darren demands and Chris follows his orders.

Darren’s eyes, always so expressive, now carry a somberness that seem so out-of-place on him. “It’s going to suck saying goodbye to you.”

“Let’s not talk about this,” Chris warns him quietly. Just the mention of the word goodbye makes him want to vomit.

Darren frowns. “Well, we have to. I gotta leave tomorrow. You have a flight to catch. How are we gonna make this work?”

Chris blinks at him, reaching out for Darren under the water, grabbing his waist as reality slowly, and painfully, sinks in.

“Fine. After you graduate, so let’s say June, we’ll see each other again. You want to meet here?”

Darren shakes his head. “Nah. We’ve already done that, though it would be nice to see Connor and Alexandra again.”

“Florence?”

“Oh no, Florence is boring. Plus you’ve already been there.” Then, his eyes light up with that trademark Darren excitement. “Ooh, how about Venice? I can sing to you on a gondola.”

His huge smile sparks butterflies in Chris’ stomach. Conquering another Italian city with this man by his side sounds marvelous.

He’s counting down the days already.

“So, in between now and then, should we exchange numbers or–”

“I don’t know,” Darren interrupts him. “What if things fizzle out, or you get bored with me or something?”

A smile creeps on Chris’ face. “Darren, you are far from boring.”

“Well, you think I’m all exciting now. Imagine dealing with me every single day.”

Chris closes his eyes, and pictures how his life would be with Darren in it all the time, certainly much better and brighter than it had ever been before.

Then, his heart sinks, because, maybe Darren doesn’t want the attachment of some dumb, young kid tying him down when he could be free to explore all the world has to offer, on his own.

Chris sighs.

“I think I could handle you, but, uh, maybe you don’t wanna handle me. Is that what you’re getting at?”

Chris tries to hide his hurt, but fails, with Darren instantly leaning over to plant a soft peck on his lips.

“That is so not what I mean, babe. It’s just–I don’t want to fuck this up. I get selfish, and as you saw the other night, incredibly jealous. I’ll wonder who you’re with. I’ll miss you too damn much.”

 _“Darren,”_ Chris can’t stop the anguish from bubbling out as he brushes his fingers across Darren’s thigh.

“I know.” Darren’s gaze drops down. “It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not. I’ll miss you, too. So much. but maybe you’re right. I don’t want to spend the next few months missing you. I want to spend it playing back memories like this one.”

Darren runs a wet hand through his hair. “This fucking hurts, Chris.”

Gently, he places his hand on either side of Darren’s chest, and leans into his embrace. Tears pool in Chris’ eyes and spill down his face, blending into the water from the bath. Darren’s breathing shallows, and his body is stiff, stress circulating off him in waves. Chris didn’t think that the mere discussion of them separating would break him apart like this. His heart splinters even more, thinking of tomorrow, when they have to _really_ say goodbye.

“Please, don’t cry,” Darren murmurs. “Y’know, nine months is nothing. I mean, it takes that long for a baby to be born and babies are born every frickin’ day.”

Chris laughs, and sobs at the same time at his horrible logic. He pulls back to face him, running his thumb across his bottom lip. “You talk too much.”

“If I had a dime every time someone told me that...”

“You’d be a very rich man, I assume,” Chris finishes, stroking Darren’s cheek, and kissing him gently, pouring all of the care he has for this man into it.

Darren pulls away first. “How about on May 31 at midnight we meet at the top of the _Campanile di San Marco_? It’s like the Empire State Building of Venice.”

“So, it’s like _Sleepless in Seattle_?”

“Kinda. _‘People who truly love once are far more lucky to love again,’”_ Darren whispers sending chills down Chris’ spine. “Is that the line?”

Now, Chris is melting.

He leans up, kissing his lips, and grasps a handful of Darren’s curls. He tries to commit the feeling of them to memory when the long nine months apart are too much to bear.

However, the lukewarm water on his skin is starting to distract him, and he can feel his skin prickling up.

“Hey, I’m starting to feel like a raisin.”

Darren plants a wet kiss on Chris’ nose. “In that case, you are one cute raisin.”

Chris playfully slaps his shoulder, then stands up and instantly wraps a towel around his waist. Darren does the same, and grabs Chris’ hand, leading him back into the bedroom.

“Let’s not get dressed,” Darren says when Chris is facing the bed, away from him.

Darren’s arms ring around his waist, and he nuzzles Chris’ neck.

“Mine,” he whispers into his collarbone.

Chris wants to scream, _yes, I’m yours_ to all of Rome, but the swift motion of Darren ripping off the towel around his waist stops him.

He stifles a moan.

“Chris,” he breathes, “My Chris.”

This is when those pesky three words resurface in his brain, but Chris silences them by turning around and capturing Darren’s lips, in a hard _don’t-forget-about-me_ kiss, then his hands wander downward to the towel around his waist, maneuvering it off quickly.

“So eager,” Darren mumbles against his lips.

Chris sits on the bed, and Darren finds his place on his lap without breaking the kiss. The position is new for Chris and he takes full advantage of the angle, running his hands up and down his muscled back.

Darren pushes Chris flat on the bed, and with Darren now hovering over him, Chris can feel him half-hard against his stomach again.

Still uncomfortably sore, Chris knows there’s no way he can go again, at least, not yet. So, with no preamble whatsoever, Chris bites his bottom lip and places one hand around Darren’s cock. Darren’s eyes close briefly, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Not gonna last long,” Darren says, gaze needy and intense.

Chris tightens his grip as Darren’s mouth drops open and his breathing increases. Still wet from the bath, Chris’ hand glides swiftly up and down his cock, and Darren looks on the verge of bursting.

“Look at me,” Chris whispers, and Darren’s eyes fly open, burning with lust and staring at Chris like he’s the sexiest thing in the world.

His mouth dries at this newfound sense of control, and the empowering feeling pushes Chris to stroke him harder and faster. On cue, he comes onto Chris’ stomach, throwing his head back as his body pulses.

“Oh, fuck,” Darren cries, collapsing onto him.

He rolls over, taking Chris with him so that he’s sprawled on top. His eyes shut, as he wraps his arms around Chris, clinging tight.

“Darren,” Chris kisses his chest.

Chris feels his arms tighten around him further, his only response.

“Are you okay?”

Darren finally opens his eyes, but just watches him, his lips parted. He has the same vulnerable and open look on his face as he did last night, right before his broken confession that he might be falling for Chris.

“I know, Dare. You don’t have to say anything.”

Darren leans forward planting a soft kiss on his lips, then Chris curls up on his chest. He could tell what Darren was going to say, but Chris is glad he didn’t. Hearing those words would make their goodbye so much harder.

Instead, Chris’ heart swells as he drifts to sleep, entangled in the man who single-handedly changed his life in five simple days.

**

There is nothing better than waking up to find a gorgeous man singing “Part of Your World.”

Well, the situation gets better when that man’s name is Darren and he’s only wearing a guitar.

His eyes are burning from the sunlight, and Chris wants nothing more to be angry, but with Darren waltzing around the room singing, he currently has the perfect view of Darren’s toned, and ever so perfect, ass.

_“And, ready to know what the people know. Ask ‘em my questions and get some answers like what’s a fire and why does it – what’s the word, burn?”_

When Darren climbs on the bed and purrs the last few lines of the song, Chris sings along. It’s ridiculous, and the folks across the hall will probably be calling Connor and Alexandra to file a noise complaint at any moment.

“Fuck, your voice is incredible,” Darren says, removing the guitar from around him and places it to the side. “I knew it would be, but damn. You didn’t disappoint.”

Now with a fully naked Darren before him, Chris wants to claw his way onto his lap and never leave. 

But, time.

Time is a bitch.

They only have so much of it left together and _so much_ to do. Chris makes a mental checklist in his head, which gives Darren to opportunity to catch Chris off guard with a kiss.

It’s rushed and sloppy, their teeth clashing a few times because Chris just can’t stop smiling. He’s on a high, a romance high, despite the countdown to goodbyes ticking, and ticking away.

**

The first round of goodbyes consist of departing from their messy hotel room. Darren being, well, Darren, is not the cleanest human being, and his array of clothes, shoes and _stuff_ around the room prove that.

Chris, on the other hand, is way more organized. Each compartment has a purpose and everything in his bag is necessary, except for one of Darren’s shirts that he is trying to sneak into his bag.

He’s caught, almost instantly.

“I see what you’re trying to pull,” Darren teases, ripping the said shirt out of his hand. “C’mon, Chris, if you’re going to be creepy and take one of my shirts for a future shrine to me, at least make your choice of shirt a good one. This has holes in it!”

“Darren, all of your shirts probably have holes in them.”

He does a dramatic pause before saying, “Touché.”

Chris knows it’s a bit on the creepy side, but he wants something to remember Darren by. He needs something that smells like him, feels like him, and something that will remind himself of this moment whenever things get hard.

“Give it back,” Chris pouts.

“Put that lip away. We’ve had this fight before.” Darren slips the shirt into his backpack, but not before ripping off the shirt he’s wearing. “Take this one.”

The cotton navy shirt he tosses to Chris is the same one he wore the night at Darren’s dorm. 

Fond memories of handjobs and hickies dance in his head.

Not caring at this point what Darren think of him, he pulls the shirt to his nose and inhales. It smells like musk, soap and _Darren._

“Thank you,” Chris quietly shoves the shirt into his bag. “Did you want to take something of mine?”

“Already did last night, don’t you remember?”

Darren grins wickedly as Chris slowly realizes what he means.

“Ha ha,” Chris blushes. “Very funny. Glad you have that for the road as your consolation prize.”

“Hey, hey,” Darren finds his way to Chris’ side and wraps his arm around his waist. “You know I was only joking. Last night was special, right?”

Oh, how Chris will miss Darren’s random spurts of serious talk.

“Yes, Darren,” Chris pats his shoulder as if to calm him down. “Last night, and this morning, for that matter, were incredible.”

“Good,” Darren pecks his lips, then slaps his ass. “Chop, chop. I want to take you somewhere before my train.”

Chris continues to pack up his things as he pictures how things will be in a few months when they meet up again. He pictures the two of them sprawled out on a beach in Venice, overlooking the bluest of skies, Darren making fun of Chris with the sweetest smile for burning so easily in the sun.

He grins at the thought and drifts back into the bittersweet feeling of their current swan song.

Once the hotel room looks decent, Chris and Darren unpleasantly prepare for their second goodbye to Alexandra and Connor. When they reach the lobby, Connor is fixing a light bulb, while Alexandra is playing backseat driver, yelling instructions in Italian.

Alexandra’s face lights up when she sees the two of them though.

“ _Ahh, ragazzi. Lasciando?”_

Darren and Chris both nod and Alexandra’s frown deepens. She hugs Darren first, whispering in his ear. Chris doesn’t catch what she says, but he assumes it’s about him based on her expression.

Then Chris is engulfed in her warm embrace, “ _Sorridere, amore.”_ He smiles at her, and her face lights up. “ _Sorridere, bello sorridere,”_ she repeats to Connor who sticks out his hand for Chris to shake.

“One year, you come back, yes?” Connor asks, looking at Chris.

“We plan on it,” Darren answers for Chris, and shakes Connor’s hand.

It’s a simple promise that Chris hopes they keep. The lovely couple mirrors so much of what Chris wants for himself, things he didn’t even know he wanted before Darren.

As they exit the hotel Darren interlaces their fingers and kisses his knuckles. “You okay, babe?”

Chris sucks in a breath and rapidly nods. 

He’s not okay, far from okay.

But he can’t let cool as a cucumber Darren see that.

Chris isn’t sure where Darren is taking him on their last touristy adventure, but it’s an apparent must-see based on the heavy crowd flow in this part of town. Trying to keep up with Darren’s fast pace, Chris wonders where he’s from that he learned to walk with such authority. 

Chris didn’t pick up on any recognizable accent so he can’t be from New York or Boston, or even somewhere down South.

Darren’s nonjudgmental, easygoing nature screams that he’s probably from a major city, which Chris hopes is on the West Coast, because then they could meet up even sooner, and forgo returning to Europe altogether.

He realizes he never bothered to ask about seemingly insignificant details like this, including Darren’s last name, so Chris speculates if they’re even significant at all at this point.

“Okay, we’re here,” Darren shouts, snapping Chris out of his head.

The view from the packed bridge is beautiful, very similar to the one they were on the first day they met. Chris ponders if Darren wants to recreate that moment.

Darren crouches down and opens his backpack. “Do you have a Sharpie?”

“What?”

“Babe, don’t be a letdown. Every writer should have a Sharpie in their possession at all times.”

Chris huffs, going through his satchel and pulling out a blue permanent marker. Then, he looks up at the chainlink fence in front of him that’s covered in padlocks, with names scrawled on them.

“What are these?”

“They’re called lovelocks,” Darren explains, blushing as he takes the marker from Chris. “Couples from across the world have chained their love to this bridge, and we, my dear, are about to be one of them.”

Darren’s mouth twists into a beaming smile when he holds out a lock with Chris & Darren ‘08 scribbled on it.

“You want to do the honors?”

His heart sores at the permanent marking of he and Darren existing somewhere, together, always, so much so that Chris captures Darren’s mouth with his own, right there, on the crowded bridge. 

Darren still tastes like the mint toothpaste he borrowed from Chris not too long ago.

Some part of Chris’ brain vaguely registers that people might be watching, but Darren only deepens the kiss for another long moment before pulling back.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Darren whispers against his lips.

Chris gives him one final smooch before placing the lock in a free spot while Darren tosses something in the water. Then, Chris stands back, gawking at the rows and rows of locks, each telling their own story. Some are rusting already, while others look brand spanking new. 

He envisions how each couple ended up after placing their padlock with the rest. Did they survive? Or did the relationship head south after marking their spot on the bridge of love?

That notion sticks with Chris as Darren drags him to the nearest bus stop to head to the train station. Silence swallows them up on the ride, but as they get closer to the station, Chris can sense Darren’s dread as he holds his hand a little tighter every few minutes.

Chris can’t help his nerves from leaping out of his skin. Darren is next to him, far too quiet and fiddling nervously with the green ring around his finger. It actually makes Chris more nervous, and he finds himself mirroring his actions, adjusting his watch repeatedly.

At the station, they get their tickets, and the first wave of sadness courses through Chris when Darren says his train leaves first. They find a bench somewhere among the chaos of the afternoon rush and Chris tries to quell his nerves.

“This is fucking weird. Why are we being weird?” Darren asks, finally breaking the silence.

For some reason, Chris resists touching him, but inhales his divine scent, and hopes the shirt in his bag still smells like him.

“I have no idea.”

Chris blinks back tears – he can’t bear to bring all that to the surface.

“Baby, Chris.” Darren takes his hand once again, and when Chris looks up at him, Darren goes on.

“This isn’t goodbye. Not forever. I--I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Chris’ lip quivers. “Dare, please, don’t. This isn’t some day trip or a quick run to the grocery store. You’re gonna be gone soon.”

Darren’s eyes well up, even as he laughs hollowly. “You’re right. We’re being stupid about this. We should at least exchange numbers.”

Chris’ mind instantly goes to the horror of his mom, or God forbid, his dad, picking up the phone when Darren calls.

He’d die, plain and simple.

“Okay. Why don’t you give me your number? I don’t have a cell phone.” Chris ducks his head down, realizing how childish that statement is.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Darren reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper. “I already wrote it down.”

His hand trembling, Chris takes the piece of paper with a ten-digit number scribbled on it and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans.

This _should_ make him feel better, but Chris still feels like shit.

Darren must notice, like he always does, because he quiets Chris’ thoughts with a kiss.

“Call me this weekend. I’ll be settled and missing the fuck out of you,” he exclaims when an announcement rings out, marking the upcoming departure of his train to Arezzo.

Chris squeezes his hand tighter. “I-I can’t--I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t wanna go, either. Leaving you-- _fuck._ I fucking hate this part.”

Darren lunges forward and encircles Chris with a bear hug.

Breathing in his scent, Chris holds onto Darren’s earlier words and reminds him, “N-not goodbye, right?”

Apprehension smacks Chris in the face when Darren doesn’t answer right off the bat, just glares at him with uncertain eyes. 

Should they have exchanged numbers, or even agreed to meet again?

Unable to look Darren in the eyes any longer, he looks around the busy station and imagines if a year from now he’d be standing in a place like this, alone. 

What if Darren doesn’t show?

Darren heaves himself up, extending a hand to Chris, who accepts. “I can practically hear what you’re thinking, Chris, but I know I’m gonna show up to see you on that day and I know exactly how I’ll feel.”

His eyes glow with such a tenderness that Chris hasn’t seen before.

“How are you going to feel then, Dare?”

Chris wishes his answer will be because he’s in love.

“I’m going to be so fucking excited to see you again, and to hold you,” he wraps his arms around Chris’ waist and pulls him forward. “And kiss you.”

Another call for the next train chimes in, and Chris can hear the booming friction of the train tracks near.

Unable to conceal his emotions anymore, Chris quietly begins crying on Darren’s shoulder, his runny nose dripping on Darren’s shirt. He feels a soft hand stroke his back and the contact causes everything to tremble around him.

“You’ll be okay. You’ll feel alone sometimes, but just--just know that I’m going to be just a phone call away. Maybe we can even meet up before I graduate, like spring break or something. I know we’ll both be broke, but we’re going to figure this out, okay? This isn’t it.” 

Darren exhales heavily against Chris’ ear, Chris closes his eyes trying to memorize exactly how he feels wrapped in Darren’s embrace. He squirms as Darren’s hands travel up his back and to his cheeks, forcing Chris to look at him. 

“There’s no way out of this, y’know. You’re stuck with me, no matter what you say. There’s no chance that this is it. We have so many more stories to tell.”

Chris nearly rolls his eyes, but his heart leaps anyway, falling further under the spell that is Darren. However, the view of the oncoming train over Darren’s shoulder crowds into their magical moment and reality breaks through once again.

As Chris watches a slew of trains buzz past, Darren’s lips find his while his hands curl around his head, clenching him as Chris surrenders to his proficient tongue. Abruptly Darren pulls away, and kneels down to grab his bag, leaving Chris wanting more as always.

 _“Ultima chiamata,”_ the intercom sounds overhead and Chris’ heartbeat races.

“I gotta go, babe.”

Chris nods, watching him sling his guitar over his back, much like he did when they met. The thought almost makes him cry out again, pain lancing from his chest directly to his heart.

“Promise not to cut your hair.” Chris blurts out of nowhere, but hoping it keeps Darren standing in front of him just a second longer.

Darren laughs. “Don’t see that happening anytime soon, but I promise. I won’t cut my hair.”

His skilled tongue then invades Chris’ mouth, needy and dominating. Once again, it’s over too soon.

Leaning against his forehead, Darren opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. 

Chris recognizes what he might want to say, so he kisses away that agonizing feeling, before Darren is literally pulling Chris with him to the train door.

Reluctantly, Chris is the first to pull away, allowing Darren to get on the train fully. 

Darren wipes the front of his hand under his nose, then waves as the train starts to move. Chris thinks back to every romantic comedy he’s seen over his lifetime, and realizes this is normally the part where the other person would run after the train.

But he stays rooted in his spot, watching it disappear.

It’s time to let go, and return to the real world, which seems infinitely dimmer without Darren by his side.

Chris debates rummaging through his bag for his camera, so he can stare at the picture of he and Darren near the Medici Fortress in Arezzo, but he decides against it.

There isn’t enough time.

There’s never enough time.

Chris sighs and stares blankly ahead as he listens for the announcement for his train, wondering how this week would have gone, had he traveled everywhere alone, as planned.

He would have survived it, maybe even enjoyed it, but he wouldn’t have the memory of Darren smiling at him over their first meal, or of Darren’s melodic voice serenading him countless times, or of the way Darren tasted the first time they kissed.

Chris wouldn’t feel a gaping wound in his chest right now.

The doors of the train fly open then and he steps onto it, his brain immediately transporting him to another train, another time, when a handsome stranger approached him and unexpectedly brought his whole world into sharper, exquisite detail in only a matter of days.

Now, he sits and stares out the window yet again, alone for certain this time, and headed in the opposite direction of where his heart lies.

He can’t stop himself from thinking if Darren is carrying the same pain as he is, and it makes him want to rush to Arezzo and hop a flight to wherever Darren is headed.

But he’s not that brave, so he stays on his train until he reaches the airport to catch his own flight.

He numbly goes through of the motions of boarding, unable to speculate any further about what Darren might be feeling and instead repeating Darren’s words in his head:

_“We have so many more stories to tell.”_

**

Chris keeps thinking of that as he unpacks, and of the throbbing in his ass that made sitting on a plane for hours nearly unbearable, until he smiles and remembers the source of it, triggering an onslaught of even more memories.

He’s so lost in thoughts of Darren and his perfect hands, his perfect _everything,_ that he barely notices Hannah until she’s bouncing on his bed next to him.

“Hey, what’d you get me? Earth to Chris,” she yells.

Hannah and his mom were more than chatty from the moment he got off the plane until he made up some excuse to head to his room. His mom wanted to know details and see pictures, and she especially wanted to know about his last week seeing that he didn’t e-mail her once.

He couldn’t exactly tell her why he was busy and what, or even, who he was doing it with.

Hannah, on the other hand, is uninterested as always. Sure, she missed him, but her biggest concern was finding which thing in Chris’ suitcase would soon be hers.

“Of course I got you something, Hannah, but can we wait until I’m unpacked to discuss gifts?”

“Fine. I’ll help you.” She huffs, getting off the bed to assist. 

Chris is kind of amazed at how grown up his sister has gotten while he’s been overseas. Her hair is shorter, and her mouth is quicker and sassier than before. Chris has to admit that his first few days in Italy, he spent the nights worrying he’d get that phone call, and he would have to be on the first flight home.

“Bubba, what’s this? Is this my present?”

Chris turns from his closet and finds his sister holding an envelope with his name scribbled on it in a familiar scrawl. He yanks it out of her hand before she can rip it open, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest at the stationary.

It’s from the hotel.

“Chris, what is it?” Hannah shouts.

“It’s nothing,” he pauses, then reaches in his bag. “Oh, look here. It’s your gift.” Chris hands her a bright pink chiffon scarf. “Now it’s very expensive so you’ll--”

“Oh my god,” she yells. “It will match my favorite pink jacket.”

Hannah smashes into Chris in a tight hug, repeating _“thank you”_ over and over again.

“You’re welcome, Hannah. Now, why don’t you go show Mom and see how dinner’s coming, huh?”

A dust cloud almost forms as Hannah runs out of her room, screaming about her new accessory. Chris laughs because her reaction is exactly what he suspected when Darren convinced him to buy it a few days prior.

_Darren._

His focus shifts automatically to the white envelope in his hands. For some reason, he hesitates, not sure if whatever is inside will break his heart even more than its current state. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back as sadness and yearning lace through him.

Maybe what’s inside will tell Chris that Darren _did_ have second thoughts about seeing him again, and that he didn’t have the balls to say that to his face. 

Could the goodbye, the tears and the promises have all been an act? 

Taking a deep breath, he tears the envelope open and pulls out a few pieces of the hotel stationery, and sees the handwriting of a man he’ll probably spend the next few months dreaming about.

On the first page, there are hastily scribbled lyrics that Chris instantly recognizes, and then a letter:

_You’re just too good to be true Can’t take my eyes off of you You’d be like heaven to touch I wanna hold you so much At long last, love has arrived And I thank God I’m alive You’re just too good to be true Can’t take my eyes off of you_

_Chris,_

_I tried to write something deep and heartfelt, but those were the first words I could come up with -- someone else’s. I’m that pathetic. Mostly it’s because I’ve been staring at you for half an hour, wondering how to say goodbye, when all I wanna do is spend every waking moment getting to know you even more, inside and out._

_I’m hoping I can sneak this into your bag without you noticing, so if you are reading this, I didn’t successfully convince you that living in this hotel and working for Alexandra and Connor for the rest of our lives was a good idea. Instead, you’re at home, and I’m back in Michigan, most likely missing the hell out of you._

_Anywho, I know you’re probably thinking, why the hell am I writing this instead of talking about it when you wake up? The reason for that is pretty simple… I’m scared shitless. Wholeheartedly, I have never in my 21 years on this planet been so terrified (This is where I know you’re rolling your eyes at me for being so dramatic. Please stop it)._

_I may be able to talk your ear off about Harry Potter or Disney movies, but when it comes to this kind of shit, I normally run for the hills. But with you, I can’t. I don’t want to. I’m so sorry that I’m not able to tell you all this in person and have to go all Mr. Darcy with a handwritten letter (Calm down your literature boner. I read, too)._

_My goal is to give you my phone number before we say goodbye. If I didn’t have the guts or something, my phone number is on the back of this letter. Call me this weekend. I can’t wait to hear your voice._

_The truth is, I’m fucking crazy about you, which I would hope you understand by now, but just in case you don’t, I’m giving you proof, here, in your hands._

_You have me, too, Chris, and whenever you’re not with me, you’re somewhere: on my mind, in my heart, in the words and the melodies I write. You’ll always be there._

_Okay, I should stop now before I get too sentimental. We still have a few hours together, and I’d rather spend them with you instead of thinking about how fucking miserable I’ll be when I have to leave._

_Yours, Darren Everett Criss_

Chris’ mouth drops open in disbelief, staring at Darren’s heart, and his full name, beautifully displayed on paper. Chris tries not to get carried away imagining how their names would sound together.

He’s already gathered how Darren feels about him from his reluctance to say goodbye, but he wasn’t sure just how deep those feelings ran, until now.

The man single-handedly changed the way Chris views the world, taught him that he’s perfectly good enough. He can’t go back to how he was before, and he hopes Darren won’t, either. He needs to cling to the hope that whatever they built over the past week won’t evaporate.

Chris will keep the letters, the pictures, and Darren’s shirt close, since the man himself is thousands of miles away.

Chris pins the letter up on his bulletin board, and places the wrinkled sheet of paper with Darren’s phone number on it on his desk. Chris will call him and hopefully, they’ll keep talking in the coming months, despite Darren’s busy schedule of parties, finals, and planning for the future.

Chris won’t really have Darren, but he’ll have his voice, which will have to suffice until they see each other again.

For now, Chris will keep the memories of Darren with him as a reminder not to bury his own heart too deep, because a piece of it will forever stay in Italy, and with Darren, no matter where they go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Reblog?](http://dontfretbaby.tumblr.com/post/90468203701/fic-unpack-my-heart-crisscolfer-au)  
>  Tumblr: [dontfretbaby](http://dontfretbaby.tumblr.com/)  
> &[somethingdarrenish](http://somethingdarrenish.tumblr.com/)


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